


Clothing Is Custom, No Labels

by NotCallingYouALiar



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Adult Content, Anxiety, Blood Play, Blood and Violence, Edge Play, Eventual Smut, Exhibitionism, F/M, Glove Kink, Graphic Description, Graphic Sex, Gun Kink, Gun Violence, Hair-pulling, Knife Play, Ledger Joker - Freeform, Light Bondage, Light Sadism, Manipulation, Movie: The Dark Knight (2008), Murder, NSFW, Oral Sex, Past Violence, Porn With Plot, Possessive Behavior, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Self-Insert, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Smut, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Violence, will tag as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:40:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 48,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24748480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotCallingYouALiar/pseuds/NotCallingYouALiar
Summary: “No matches on prints, DNA, dental. Clothing is custom, no labels. Nothing in his pockets but knives and lint. No name, no other alias.”You’re one of the last bespoke tailors in town, making suits and custom clothing for Gotham’s elite. Business men and women, well known lawyers, the Wayne family, and... the Joker?
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Reader, Joker/You
Comments: 263
Kudos: 317





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!!  
> I've started a second work (AAAA!) that I've been working on for a bit. It's a fairly common trope but I wanted to give it a try! 💜 I don't expect it to be as long as -If You're Good At Something, Never Do It For Free- and the chapters are likely to be shorter as well but still packed with plenty of J! 
> 
> Please enjoy this self-insert about you, the bespoke tailor who's life is about to change when Gotham's newest Clown Prince of Crime commissions a suit from you... but that isn't all he wants 
> 
> We're starting just after J robs Gotham National Bank...

You were one of the few bespoke tailors left in Gotham. The well-established family business, passed down through the past few generations, was left to you by your father. At first, you resented him for it. You had dreams of leaving Gotham to go to school in Washington. You had wanted to be a criminal psychologist. Serial killers, mass murderers, terrorists, arsonists, they were fascinating to you. There seemed to be a disconnect between their own principles and what the rest of society accepted as truth, a complete lack of conventional morality. But dad got sick so now you were a tailor. You couldn’t let the family business go under because you didn’t want it. It came pretty naturally to you, after all. When you were little, you’d play in the shop while dad worked on his sewing machine so you picked up the skill on a professional level by the time you were a teenager.

The shop was downtown, near the business district, since most customers were corporate big-wigs. Even Thomas Wayne, then his son Bruce, got their suits made by your father. You remembered the first time Bruce Wayne came into the shop. Slick hair, chiseled jaw, muscular build, a real prick. You didn’t like how smug he was. He had money, nothing else special about him.

You were in the back, getting ready to close one night, when the bell at the front desk rang. It was five minutes till close, the orange glow of the sun’s last appearance until morning shining through the windows. Needless to say, you were a bit irritated. It had been an exceptionally slow and boring day so you were looking forward to finally getting out of there to get back to your apartment for a nice bath.

On your way to the desk, a feeling hit the pit of your stomach. That little queasy twinge that came along when something wasn’t right. A large, bald-headed man in a leather jacket drummed his fingers impatiently on the counter.

“Um. Can I help you?” you asked, keeping as much distance between yourself and this man as you could.

He mumbled something to himself before answering, “Yeah. My boss needs a suit. He ‘aint the daytime kinda guy so he needs ya to stay open later.”

What? You furrowed your brow. First of all, no one has ever requested that before. Second, that sounded completely shady. You were here alone most of the time so you left before it got late. A young woman walking home alone in downtown Gotham was not something that anyone who was smart would do. Even if your place was only a couple of blocks away. Trying saying no to this guy, though.

“Your boss wants me to stay late? Um. Well, I don’t know if I can do that,” you replied, trying to hide the anxiety in your voice.

He rolled his eyes and reached for something in his pocket. Your heart jumped into your throat and your body tensed, preparing for whatever he was about to threaten you with. But the threat never came. Instead, he slapped a thick bundle of one hundred dollar bills on the counter.

“This is a cash advance. He’ll be here tomorrow night at ten,” he said.

You were speechless. Business hadn’t exactly been booming recently so money was tight. You had bills to pay. You had to take it.

You reached out and cautiously put your hand on the cash as he slid it forward and said, “Ok.”

“If you ‘aint here. You’ll be sorry,” he added before abruptly turning and disappearing through the front door before you could say anything else.

His words twisted your guts into knots and made your chest feel tight. Was that a threat? Of course it was. Your heart started pounding and your hands tingled as they started to shake. What had you gotten yourself into? How can you be sure this guy isn’t planning to hurt you even if you do stay late?

You backed up into the chair behind you and sat down. Deep breaths. It’s done. Don’t panic.

This is Gotham city, home to ruthless criminals and a world-renowned mafia presence. This wasn’t the first time you’d interacted with a not-so-savory character. It was obvious he was going to pay you, he already did. Maybe he’s just… sensitive to the sun. Whoever he was, you were going to meet him tomorrow night. Just be professional.

He just wants a suit, right?

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooo here we go!!
> 
> I hope you like it! Comments welcome as always!  
> I was going to wait to post until I finished with If You're Good At Something (don't worry I have NOT abandoned it!) but I got impatient, oml!


	2. Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go!

\- **Part One** -

Sleep did not come easily to you last night. You tossed and turned, worry about this cryptic meeting flooding your dreams and stirring you awake throughout the night. The lack of good sleep left you feeling hazy and distracted. So hazy that you didn’t see the uneven patch of sidewalk beneath your feet. Your hands shot out in front of you to catch yourself, the rough pavement scraping your palms.

You huffed as you stood up and brushed off your sore hands on your pants. Fucking sidewalk. You pass that patch of sidewalk every day and every day, you walk around it. But not today. Today has decided to be different.

Your keys jingled as you unlocked the back door to the shop, yawning with coffee in hand. It was going to be rough, staying here late tonight. After you opened the front curtains and switched on the lights, you reached behind the desk to turn the news on in the background while you readied the shop to open.

“Several Gotham city banks have been robbed within the last week. This string of robberies has left many dead on the scene at each location, all of whom are assumed to be accomplices, as reported by eye witnesses. If that wasn’t strange enough, all of them have been wearing clown masks,” you heard the GCN news anchor say from your little tv.

What did he just say? You left the mannequin you were preparing to dress in the window and took long strides back to the desk.

“It is estimated that over sixty million dollars has been stolen thus far. Police have had few leads as their investigation continues but one man appears to be the driving force behind the robberies. Gotham PD has released this photo, captured by security cameras at Gotham National Bank just yesterday,” the anchor continued before an image flashed on the screen.

Your eyes widened and your breath hitched in your throat at the sight of a man in ghostly white makeup with black around his eyes, a blood red smile over his lips and two jagged scars curling up from both corners of his mouth, staring straight at the camera.

“Nothing else is known about this man other than that he goes by the alias, ‘the Joker’, leaving a Joker playing card behind at many of the crime scenes. If you have any information on the man pictured, please contact the anonymous tip line listed at the bottom of your screen.”

You switched the tv off, a shiver running down your spine. That image was burned into your eyes, as clear as it was on the screen moments ago. You blinked a few times but it was still there, staring at you. The Joker. Those eyes just gazed straight through the screen and locked with yours. It was unsettling but you couldn’t help but feel something else. Overwhelming curiosity. Who was this guy? Why did he paint his face? Where did he even come from? This was the first you’d heard of him. Not to mention those scars. Flesh viciously sliced apart, torn clean through, leaving behind a macabre permanent smile. A strange feeling tugged at your stomach as you thought about the pain he must have felt. They were so… terrifying.

The sound of the door opening jolted you out of your trance as you jumped and whipped around to face the door.

“Oh, sorry about that. Didn’t mean to scare you. Where do you want me to leave these?”

A delivery guy stood just inside the doorway with a handcart stacked with boxes. You shook your head and answered with an embarrassed smile, “It’s ok, I guess I’m a little jumpy today. You can leave them anywhere back there, thanks.”

You pointed toward the back room and he nodded on his way to drop them off. Shit, maybe you shouldn’t drink that coffee.

The afternoon crawled by at a frustratingly sluggish pace. The ticking of time made you impatient for the day to be done but simultaneously anxious about the very same idea. A particularly needy woman with perfume that burned your nose picked up an altered dress and a man looking to get his pants hemmed to fit his unfortunately short stature took up some of your time but it was still an hour before closing time. Your stomach fluttered for a second. Tonight it wasn’t really closing time. You decided to preoccupy yourself with a book you’d meaning to read, sitting down and leaning back in your chair, getting comfortable at the desk. Maybe you’d run out to grab a bite to eat soon.

Your eyelids flew open as you suddenly awoke with a start. The shop was dark. You scrambled from your chair to find the clock, grabbing it from the counter and turning it around. 9:40 pm.

Your heart started pounding in your chest, the meeting with your new mystery client was dangerously close. You cursed under your breath and rushed to close the front curtains, hoping to avoid anyone else trying to come in. It was a miracle you weren’t robbed in the first place.

Reality rushed over you and your hands started to shake with unease. Why were you so nervous? Well, this has never happened to you before. Men bringing you that much money ahead of time, in cash no less. Asking, no, telling you to stay open late for them. It was just weird. Weird in a way that made the little hairs on the back of your neck stand up. And now it was here.

A few deep breaths did something to calm your nerves a bit, at least until the hands on the clock reached 9:58. Headlights illuminated the maroon velvet curtains over the windows, sending your heart rate soaring once again. He’s here.

Suddenly, an urge to hide made your legs twitch as you stood in front of the desk but you resisted it, fighting to keep yourself from running to the back room. Your heart continued to pound and was joined by a shudder down your spine as you caught sight of two silhouettes, figures cast in shadow over the curtains that were moving toward the door.

You held your breath when the door opened. It was the bald man from yesterday. He made eye contact with you and blinked. You tensed up, waiting for him to say something, but instead he let go of the door to disappear back outside.

What?

Before you could react, the door opened again and a different man stepped into the shop.

You halted in place, staring at him. His hair was stringy and tinted green. His face. His face was covered with a layer of white paint, black smeared around his eyes, that devilish red smile that had been floating around in the back of your mind all day. It was him.

You couldn’t move. You willed your body to do something, anything other than stare at the man with the Glasgow smile in front of you. But that’s all you could do. Blood rushed in your ears as you stood there, trapped in your own body, for what felt like far too long.

He took a few steps toward you, thawing your muscles instantly for you to back up and bump into the desk, your eyes still on him.

“What’s the matter, hm? You look nervous. Is it the scars?” he spoke as he gestured toward his face.

His voice was peculiar. Somewhat high and nasally but deep and gravelly at the same time.

Your mouth opened to speak before you had any words in mind to say. “Uh, um. N-no. I, um, I just recognized you from the, the news,” you sputtered, trying not to visibly tremble.

His eyebrows shot up and he grinned as he replied, “Ahhh, little old me? Well I’m, uh, _flatter-ed_.”

The only thing you could do was nod as you continued to gaze wide-eyed at him, your hands gripping the edge of the desk behind you like a vice. The way he pronounced words was hypnotizing. They were spoken so deliberately, so carefully chosen.

“Well, as much as I’d love to continue with this, uh, _ban-ter_ of ours, I believe you can make me a suit, yes?” he continued.

You suddenly stiffened to attention after his statement registered in your mind, your already hammering heart flipping uncomfortably in your chest.

“Oh, um, yes. Y-yes I can,” you managed to stutter.

He clapped his hands together, making you jump slightly. “ _Fan_ -tastic! Shall we?” he said enthusiastically, extending his arm out toward the mirrored area of the shop.

He waited a moment for you to move, only to watch you continue to stare like an antelope caught in a lion’s gaze before flicking his tongue out over his scarred lip and sauntering over on his own.

Deep breaths. You took deep breaths, so quickly that they were making you nauseous. You had to try to relax. What if you made him angry? He’s killed people. What would he do if you messed up? It’s too late to back out. You swallowed hard against the lump growing in your throat. You can do this, you can do this, you can do this…

He started thumbing through the books of fabric swatches on the nearby table, scrutinizing each with his eyes and occasionally raising an eyebrow as you slowly approached with pins and needles buzzing in your hands. He suddenly flicked one of the books shut and raised his eyes to meet yours once again, making you stop in your tracks and hold back a gasp.

“Now, what do I call you, doll?” he asked, his dark eyes fixed on yours.

Your words tumbled out, responding all on their own, “Y/N.”

His gaze had captured you again and this time it was drawing you in. The room around you seemed to dissolve and all you could focus on were his spellbinding eyes.

“Y/N, call me Joker,” he purred.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Fanning myself*  
> Woo! I swear, yall. This made me sweat.
> 
> Comments welcome as always! I'd love to hear from you! 💜


	3. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings for this chapter** mentions of violence, past violence, reference to intention to harm a pregnant woman, reference to alcohol abuse!
> 
> Hang on tight, things are getting intense...

\- **Part Two** –

His voice sent your already brittle nerves running wild as he spoke your name, the sound of it on his breath unsettlingly sweet. Like you’d never heard it spoken before. You stood stiff, blood rushing in your ears, still trapped in his gaze as he blinked and ran that relentless tongue across his crimson lip once more.

You felt the floor beneath your feet once again as the haze fogging your mind was dispelled by his words, “Well, Y/N. Now that we’ve, uh, gotten to _know_ each other, shall we?”

Your body rose to attention with one giant flinch. Your attempts to hide it were futile as you turned to clumsily seize a pad of paper and a pen from the desk. It was obvious, why you were so nervous. There was a man in your shop, known for robbery and murder, his scarred face distorted with smeared clown paint. But there was no turning back. Just try to relax.

When you turned back around, his eyes practically burned when they landed on you. Your throat went horribly dry as you sucked in a breath and held back a gasp before awkwardly clearing your throat.

A couple of huffed breaths came out first before you found your words, “Um, ok. So, uh, a suit then?”

He raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly, his stare still burning a hole through you.

“Ok, so two o-or three piece?” you asked, the tip of your pen leaving a dotted trail on the paper as it twitched in your hand.

He held up three fingers, covered by a black leather glove, as he answered, “And a coat, trench coat.”

You nodded slightly, eyes darting between his fingers and his dark expression, threatening to suck you in again. His face had this pull, a force that kept you from looking away.

“May I?” he asked casually, pointing to the books of fabric samples on the table in front of him.

“O-oh, yes. Um, please do,” you stuttered quickly, blinking away the tunnel forming in your vision.

He started with the book of wool fabrics, flipping past all of the neutral greys and tans until he reached the bolder colors, stopping at a deep purple. He stared at it for a moment before taking the heavy fabric between his fingers. Something flashed over his expression, it was unreadable but gave off an air of excitement, mischief. He left the book open at the royal purple and swiftly moved on to the next book. His movements were quick, yet deliberate as he made short work of selecting a bluish grey wool blend followed by a rich green, somewhere between an emerald and a grassy hue.

“Now, _theeese_. These will do just fine,” he rumbled.

You nodded and met his glance as he looked up from the table. He blinked at you and said, “Care to, uh, provide your _input_?”

Cursing your flinching, you stumbled to answer, “Oh! Uh yes, yeah. The, um, the heavy wool will do well for the, um, the coat and the others can be used for either the jacket or the vest.”

“Good,” he answered simply before standing still, watching you through his dark eyelids.

You blinked, wide eyed, staring silently back at him until you realized he was waiting for you. You stiffened and nearly dropped your notebook before quickly reaching for the length of measuring tape on the table. You had to touch him. Your heart pounded and your hands tingled uncomfortably, fingers fidgeting with the tape as you approached him.

“I-I need to take your measurements,” you said, trying not to choke on your words.

His mouth twitched a bit before he slid his dark navy blazer off of his shoulders to neatly fold it over a nearby chair. He was wearing the same clothes you saw him wearing in the photo from the bank. The navy blazer with a light blue patterned shirt, buttoned up to his neck and tucked into grey pants. He pulled the black gloves from his hands before running his fingers through his green hair and stepping up to the floor-length mirror.

You took deep breaths, attempting to slow your racing heart rate to no avail. His eerie white face with hollow black eyes stared at you through the reflective surface, not unlike a skull with a wicked red smile, stuck on his face, juxtaposing his grave expression. Your feet carried you closer, drawn to him. You were afraid, you were definitely afraid, but you couldn’t help the excitement fluttering in your belly. There was something enigmatic about him, an air of mystery that surrounded him, beckoning you closer.

“Ok, um, just stand how you normally would, arms at your sides, uh, please,” you said quietly.

He was tall, his posture hunched forward slightly as he let his hands drop to his sides. His fingers were stained with splotches of white and red. The site of his hands without his gloves on sent your stomach churning with a peculiar tingle.

Another deep breath and you lifted the end of the measuring tape to hover at his shoulder. Just touch him, it’s not a big deal, you told yourself. But your hand wouldn’t move. Your eyes darted up to his face. He gazed ahead facing forward, watching you in the mirror, until he rolled his eyes down in your direction. Your breath hitched and you suddenly positioned the tape firmly on his shoulder. He was so warm. His skin radiated a heat that you felt through his shirt.

Your quivering hand held the tape at his shoulder as your other ran it down his arm, to his wrist. From your cheeks to your ears burned while you moved the tape away to write the number down in the open notebook on the table. It was like you’d just touched something volatile. Like he would explode if you weren’t careful, the energy he emitted leaving you struggling to regain your composure. Keep going. Your face reddened while you straightened back up to take another measurement.

Pins and needles prickled your hands as they swiftly placed the tape along his other arm, down the center of his back, from the base of his neck to his shoulder, then around his wrists. Muscle memory was all that kept you moving. By now, you were nearly vibrating from the adrenaline that scorched in your veins, saturating every tissue in your body until it trembled. You tried to subtly catch your breath when you turned to write down the numbers before coming around to face him. He watched you carefully loop the tape around his even warmer neck, flinching upon contact with his bare skin while you kept your eyes on your hands with an effort that was painful. You could feel his pulse against your fingertips as you brought the tape around to his throat, causing your breath to hitch in yours.

You blew a deep breath through your lips, staring at the number to make sure you wouldn’t forget it and have to take the measurement again. Next you needed to measure his chest. It rose and fell in a most hypnotic manner. You watched it as you reached out with shaking hands to wrap the tape around him. First his chest, then his waist. The movement resulted in what could be considered a brief embrace, shooting shivers down your hypersensitive nerve endings from your hands to your feet. You couldn’t make eye contact while your cheeks burned, too on edge to look at him. A welcome reprieve came for you to breathe as you turned to jot down another number. Keep going.

You measured from waist to his knees, then along the outside of his legs to each ankle, very long so you had to strain your arms as you bent to reach. Then around his ankles. Your heart rate picked up even faster as you moved to crouch in front of him. You dreaded this part. Inseam and seat. It’s like ripping off a bandage, just get it over with. Your hands were trembling once again as you held the tape against his ankle with your finger. Then you stretched it upward, along his inner leg, stopping dangerously close to his crotch. Your belly fluttered, your knuckles grazing him lightly. You jerked your hand back and took a breath before quickly bringing the tape up to measure the seat, around his butt and in front of his zipper. Maybe if you were fast it wouldn’t be so bad.

After reading the number in front of you, your eyes drifted up to his face. His lips stretched into a grin with a bounce of his eyebrows. You suppressed a gasp and hurriedly let go of the tape, letting it flutter to the floor. Your face had never been so hot. After reaching to grab it, you stood quickly and straightened yourself, your nerves clearly manifested by the red flush lighting up your features.

A high pitched giggle forced its way out of him before he chuckled, “Relax, doll. I’m not gonna _bite_ ya.”

Horribly embarrassed wasn’t enough to describe what you felt. The only words that came to your lips were, “Oh, um, yeah I-I know.” Did he just say doll?

Keep talking, just say something.

“Oh, uh, unless you want to use the same as for the jacket, you need to choose a fabric for the pants a-and a shirt, if you’d like,” you spat out.

“Ahhh we can’t for-get tha-t can we?” he grinned.

You managed catch your breath as you grabbed the book of cotton blend fabrics and handed it to him. He skipped the neutral colors just as before and stopped to stare at a dark purple with thin white pinstripes, turning the book back toward you.

You recognized the blink that he did when he was waiting for you to respond, nudging you to speak, and you asked, “Oh, for the pants?”

“Mmmmhm,” he hummed before taking it back to look through it again. “A shirt, hm? You can do that?” he asked.

You nodded quickly, unsure if he saw it as he continued scrutinizing the decorative fabrics he’d come across.

“Ahhh, how a-bout _this_ one?” he said, showing you a greyish blue cotton swatch with darker patterned hexagons. It was one that you always thought was interesting but no one ever chose it.

“Ok! Um, yes that’ll work,” you dropped your tone mid-sentence to try to hide your enthusiasm for his choice. “And a tie?”

“Dealer’s choice, doll,” he purred.

That flutter in your belly was back. Your lips curved into a smile as you nodded at him.

“All of this _work_ must come with a price tag, hm?”

Heat raised into your cheeks once again. Normally you didn’t have a problem providing a quote, anyone coming in here for bespoke work undoubtedly would pay for it. This felt different for some reason. Even though he already made a cash down payment, you were hesitant to give him the total.

“Um, for everything, with those fabrics. Seven thousand,” you said quietly.

He reached for his jacket from the chair and threw it back onto his shoulders as you froze in place. Was he angry? Was it too much? Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out several thick stacks of bills.

“You get what you pay for, doll face,” he said, tossing the cash bundles onto the table, one by one.

Your heart jumped into your throat. That was a lot of money. More than seven grand.

“O-oh, that’s more than I… ” you uttered before he raised his eyebrows and tilted his head, putting his gloves back over this hands.

You swallowed as you stared at him and said “Ok, well thank you, um, Joker.”

He nodded as his gaze found its way back to your eyes with another saurian flick of his tongue, drawing you to his mouth. You couldn’t help but study it as your eyes begged you to keep looking. His right cheek had a cleaner curve carved into it, curled into a jester’s grin, while the left was more jagged, the haphazardly healed tissue tugging back at the corner of his mouth. You realized you’d been staring for far too long when he sucked at his teeth with a loud smack.

You flinched and darted your wide eyes to meet his. He didn’t look pleased. But he didn’t look displeased either. Fuck, just say something!

“O-oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you said, almost under your breath.

He blinked at you before finally responding, “You wanna know how I got ‘em?”

The question struck you in the chest with a feeling of intense dread. You could practically hear your own heart beating violently as he began to take steps toward you. But you couldn’t move. Your feet remained firmly in place as if he’d cast a spell on you, rendering them useless. He got closer. You felt that powerful heat radiating from him as he and leaned in to place his hands on the table on either side of you, brining his face level with yours.

His eyes were brown. From a distance they looked black as the paint that surrounded them but up close, they’re brown. You huffed quickly in and out, your breath puffing on his face hovering inches in front of yours, as your body fought for you to move. That urge to run only manifested as a trembling that shook your bones.

His voice, like velvet, sent a strangely satisfying shiver down your spine.

“I had a girlfriend once. I was head over heels. At least I _belieeve-d_ I was. Couldn’t keep it in my _pants_ , let my mind wander, only thought with my _cock_. Got her pregnant. Her father, a drunken brute, didn’t like that. Not at _aalll_. One day he decided to take it out on her. He had her by her hair, threatening to toss her down the stairs, crush the little baby insider her.”

Your eyes went even wider as his tone of voice continued to climb in intensity, raising your anxiety. He grabbed your face with one hand and continued, “I told him, ‘No, punish me. It’s my fault not hers.’ He called me a coward. Said I should be happy. Happy that he was gonna make it disappear, no longer a _problem_.”

Then he paused, staring into your eyes, not letting you look away before speaking more softly, “Then he let her go. He smashed his whisky bottle on the wall. ‘You aren’t smiling,’ he says, ‘you should be smiling.’ Next I knew he had the sharp edge in my mouth while she screamed.”

Suddenly he let go of you and backed up. You took in a sharp breath for air, like you’d just been held under water. Panting, you watched him walk slowly toward the door, putting his hand on the knob.

He turned back toward you and said, “I’ll be back in three days. Try not to, uh, _miss_ me too much,” before disappearing into the dark.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooo! Here we are! I'm not sure when the next update will be while I balance writing If You're Good At Something and my work schedule as well but it'll be coming!
> 
> Comments welcome as always, I'd love to hear from you!


	4. Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> I hope you like part three 💜 I'm excited about it!  
> Here comes J ;)
> 
> Musical inspiration for this part: Feeling Good by Muse

\- **Part Three** -

You ran to the bathroom at the back of the shop and fell to your knees in front of the toilet. Your insides churned but nothing came up, leaving you gasping as a cold sweat covered your forehead. Breathe. Just breathe. The shockwave from the rush of adrenaline that ran through your body stilled, leaving you a trembling mess on the bathroom floor. What the fuck just happened?

Your mind couldn’t make any sense of it. A flurry of anxiety, fear, and repulsion swirled with some hidden attraction creeping up from the depths of your subconscious, making you that much dizzier. You couldn’t seem to handle that man’s mere presence. He forced you into this corner of your mind where you lost control. Your body seemed to act on its own. Impulses free to run wild. You didn’t like it… But you didn’t dislike it.

Your body slowly calmed, the stillness that surrounded you making itself known. Your thoughts gave way to a tremendous curiosity. Was that story true? How he got those scars? He spoke it with veiled sincerity, nothing about it felt right. It made you feel like some loose end needed tying. Despite the anxiety simply being in the same room with him gave you, you wanted to know more. More about him.

Then reality came crashing down. Three days. You only had three days for the suit. Usually you set the deadline, but not this time. Forty hours of work in three days.

Sitting on the bathroom floor, you processed the situation you now found yourself in and a jolt of impetus suddenly brought you to your feet. What would he do if you were late? He didn’t even say he was expecting anything to be done but wasn’t it implied? Your heart sped up once again and there was this feeling in your gut that you should be afraid. But it wasn’t just fear of him that motivated you. That magnetism of his… that attraction.

You shook your head in an attempt to clear those thoughts from your mind. That was a dangerous trap to fall into. A man like him, he had to know the affect he had on people. And if he knew it, he could use it.

From the bathroom you rushed to the front to lock the door. But first you stopped at the window to peer out into the darkness. The street reflected the eerie calm of the midnight hour. There was no movement outside, but that looming presence of night, that threat of what could be out there in the dark, sent a powerful shiver down your spine before promptly turning the lock and pulling the curtains closed.

You grabbed the books of fabric from the table and hurriedly pulled the stocks from the storage room. After dropping the bulky rolls of fabric on the work bench, you stopped and stared at them. You never discussed any details. Style, buttons, fit, nothing. Maybe he did that on purpose. To leave you scrambling to guess what he wants.

There was nothing you could do about it now. You had to figure it out on your own. It had to be unique, one of a kind. Why else would he come here and not any old clothing shop?

You grabbed your sketch paper and pencils and sat down at your desk, scribbling out designs late into the night.

Your eyes opened when a soft noise roused you from your sleep. You were leaned over onto your desk, a small spot of drool collecting on the sketch paper beneath your cheek. Yawning, you sat up to stretch and rub your face. You blinked your eyes before looking to see that the mail had been dropped through the slot in the door. Wait, what time is it? 12:47.

What?? You cursed yourself for falling asleep at your desk. Now you had even less time to work. You scrambled to hurry to the front door but stopped as you began to reach for the lock. Joker paid you more than enough to stay closed for a couple of days. Sure you might miss out on some business but you never really cared about your typical patrons anyway.

You dropped your hand and left the door locked. The curtains remained drawn as well as you went back to your desk, stretching before sitting down. There were so many sketches, many of which you had no memory of doing. There wasn’t one that had all of the elements you were looking for together but a few were close.

The Joker. There was a darkness to that name and that face. It brought visions of playing cards, smoky underground gambling dens, rusty circus equipment and dark alleys to your mind. It embodied the ironic glee that came with popping a bunch of colorful balloons, splashing paint on a priceless work of art, when a car crash is happening before your eyes but you can’t look away, the urge to jump when you’re near a high ledge. That impulse to take something good or something ordinary and to twist it around into something else, something more exciting.

You lined up all of the various drawings of coats, jackets, vests, and pants next to each other on the table top. It had to have a classic look, but not too classic. Somewhere between English and American fit. Eyeing the pieces of paper in front of you, you began to choose them. Those pants, that shirt, that vest. The jacket and coat didn’t seem quite right. You slid two sketches forward and altered a few things. Change that pocket, sharpen the angle on the lapel, lengthen the coat. That’s it.

Quickly grabbing the watercolor set from inside the drawer, you put your brush to the sketches, bringing them to life. The royal purple for the coat, blueish grey jacket, green vest. They tied it all together with the hexagon patterned shirt and pinstriped pants. Your heart pounded as you drew up the final sketch, the complete suit. You felt bizarrely sure about this. It seemed to come together too fast. But it felt right, it had to be right.

Fueled by coffee and pastries from the bakery down the block, you got to work. The next couple of days were a blur of purple and green, sore fingertips, and measuring tape. Slowly, the shell of the suit began to take shape. The mannequin in front of you served as a surrogate for the man with the scars and as each layer was added, it felt like more and more like he was standing in the room with you.

It seemed as though you should be frightened by your own creation. It had this presence, this air of menace, despite the bright colors and stylish patterns. Even with the addition of green argyle suspenders. The panels of fabric for the jacket and coat were held together by white basting thread so that it could be easily altered. You had arranged the suit on the mannequin in order from shirt to vest, to jacket, to coat over top, pants neatly folded on the stand. You chose a tie with various shades of green in an ornate zigzag pattern that you knotted around the stand’s neck and stood back.

Now you couldn’t stop looking at it. Was the fit going to be right? Was it too showy? He gave you so little to work with, is it even what he wants? Why did you care so much?

You had to leave the shop or you’d keep staring, second guessing, taking an inch out here, take one in there. You had to sleep. After leaving from the side door, you headed down the block toward you apartment.

It was a cloudy day, the grey sky heavy with moisture threatening to drop down over the city. But it was still light out, there was no way you were leaving after dark. You had slept in the shop for the past two nights as you worked on the suit, only one night on purpose, and it was certainly showing by now. It felt was though your eyes were almost as dark-rimmed as Joker’s painted ones.

Silly thoughts like that kept your mind wandering so you weren’t watching where you were going. Suddenly, you ran head on into what felt like a brick wall wearing a leather jacket. It was the bald-headed man you now had the unfortunate luck to see for the third time.

“Ya need to watch where you’re goin’, lady,” he grumbled.

Your fatigue getting the better of you, you bit back, “Well maybe you shouldn’t stand in the middle of the sidewalk.”

His jaw tensed as he stared down at you, balling up his fist like he was trying to control himself. You were on thin ice. “Tomorrow night, eleven o’clock,” he said through his teeth.

Before you could respond, he stiffly turned and got in a black car parked next to the sidewalk, revving the exhaust in your face as he sped down the street. What a nice guy.

Tomorrow at eleven. You were going to see Joker again. The stirring in your gut was difficult to ignore. Anxious was the word for it. Anxiety about how you’d react, how he’d react. The inevitable tension in the air. It was too much for you now. You didn’t have the energy to worry about it as you flopped onto your bed, not to move again until after sunrise.

By morning, your anxiety was back with a vengeance. Simple tasks like putting on your shoes or unlocking the door were suddenly difficult. Your hands just tingled, not obeying a single command you gave them as you dropped nearly everything you picked up. Your queasy belly made eating completely unappealing but you managed to swallow down some nutrition.

All day you resisted the temptation to throw the suit away as you stared at it. Just yesterday it seemed so right but today, so wrong. Minor details bugged you, itching at your fingers to scrap the whole thing and start over. Too late now. It was the shortest amount of time you’d ever completed a basted fitting. What you would even change about it, you didn’t know.

The hours ticked by, waves of unease washing over you until you almost couldn’t stand it. Then suddenly it was time. 10:57. Your heart pounded as you sat at the front desk, wide eyes staring at the front door. The silence that surrounded you was overtaken by the sound of blood rushing in your ears, trying so hard to listen for any sound that you could hear nothing at all until the door opened.

A gasp swept through your lips when he appeared, green hair, ghastly face. He said nothing, he only stood there for a moment, letting the door swing shut behind him before taking slow steps forward with his eyes on you. It didn’t even feel like your heart was beating anymore, your body went numb.

He stopped in front of the desk, the piece of furniture being the only thing separating you, and his mouth stretched into a toothy grin.

“Miss me, Y/N?” he asked.

Your mouth opened but no sound came out as he raised his eyebrows, waiting for your answer. Finally, you found your voice and said quietly, “Um, uh, yeah. I did.”

Your face flushed bright red, mortified by what came out of your mouth as the real answer screamed out in your mind. Oh, you mean like I couldn’t stop thinking about you not matter how hard I tried and I lost sleep hoping that you like the suit and that you won’t kill me?

He responded with a cackling laugh, bending forward at the waist a bit with the force of it and making you jump.

“Goood. That’s good, doll,” he chuckled, after straightening back up. “I’m just, uh, _de-lighted_ to see what you’ve come up with.”

He called you doll again. Your red face continued to burn hot as you could only muster a nod. Fuck, this is it.

You stood and stiffly walked over to the fitting area, Joker keeping close behind you as goosebumps crawled down your back. You couldn’t bring yourself to turn around and look at him as you gipped the curtain that hid the mannequin from view. So badly you wanted to run away, not have to deal with any of this. Before you could act on that wish, you forced yourself to pull back the curtain.

You kept your eyes on your hand still gripping the curtain, trying as hard as you could to take steady, even breaths. Until you saw him out of the corner of your eye and you couldn’t help but twitch your gaze over to him. He had stepped forward to stand in front of the suit. He studied it with an intense look in his half-lidded eyes, his lips parted as he reached out to lift the sleeve of the coat dangling from the figure. You could swear he was breathing faster. He hates it he hates it he hates it he hates it.

“Youuu,” he rumbled in a deep voice, still keeping his gaze on the suit. “ _You_ have outdone your-self.”

Your brow shot up and you held your breath for a moment as your heart jumped into your throat.

“What?” you squeaked.

“I sai-d, you’ve _out-done_ yourself,” he answered, shifting his gaze back to you.

You froze, unable to look away from him. His eyes were glazed over, almost dream-like, as he stared at you. It felt like he was trying to look inside your head, read your thoughts like a book.

Eyes still stuck on his, you finally said, “You… you like it?”

He said nothing and suddenly broke his gaze to slide his blazer off of his shoulders. Letting it fall to the floor with a surprising metallic clunk, he started to unbutton his shirt in the mirror.

Your breath hitched and you quickly spun around when he untucked his shirt and unbuttoned his pants, your cheeks burning hot. He’s putting it on right now??

You swallowed thickly and cleared your throat before saying quietly, “Um, there are dressing rooms behind the curtain.”

He chuckled and answered from behind you, “No, uh, need for all of that, doll.”

“O-ok,” you answered, standing there stiffly and looking up at the ceiling as you blew out a deep breath. Don’t turn around. Don’t do it.

“Hold this,” he said, prompting you to betray your sensibilities and swiftly turn as he tossed the rest of the garments into your arms. He had pulled on the pinstriped pants and now wore nothing else. He stood there, barefoot and shirtless, unbuttoning the shirt on the mannequin.

You eyes went wide as you stared at his bare torso. His face wasn’t the only part of him that had been permanently marked. Scars of various sizes were scattered across his back and chest, a particularly large and brutal looking one beneath his left shoulder. You had an idea of how he was built since you took his measurements, but seeing his lean muscled form in front of you was jarring. Especially how your body reacted to it. Your heart thumped faster and you felt a rush of quivering in your core. No, no, no, stop that!

“Like what you see, hm?” he asked casually with a grin as he pulled the shirt off of the mannequin to swing it over his shoulders.

Heat rapidly rose from your neck and into your face. He knows. Without thinking, you jerked your head to the side and stared at the floor, unable to speak.

He giggled and said, “So modest. I told ya, I’m no gonna _bite_.”

You turned your head back to find yourself suddenly face to face with him, noses only inches apart. His breath warmed your face and sent a shiver down to your toes as a your cheeks prickled. You huffed back at him, overwhelmed by his closeness as his tongue flicked out of his mouth. You didn’t know whether you wanted to move backward or forward, remaining stuck in between the push and pull of fear and anticipation.

“Relaaax, _doll_ ,” he purred at you, leaning even closer as he spoke.

Then he backed away, leaving you feeling as though you’d just been doused with a bucket of cold water, catching your breath. There was that feeling again. Like you’d gotten to close to some dangerous force and it drained your resolve right out of you. It was exhausting to fight it.

He proceeded to button the shirt and tucked it in before stretching the suspenders up onto his shoulders. You remained silent, hypnotized, watching him and the peculiar way he moved. Going through the motions of putting on each piece like he’d worn it before, smirking as he expertly knotted the tie around his neck before putting on the vest.

Your hands nearly acted on their own as you held the jacket open for him to slip his arms in the sleeves, like you did with every customer. But this was different.

This felt… significant. As though something was about to change. Something big.

Then the coat. He pulled it onto his shoulders and stared straight ahead at the mirror. His expression was indecipherable as he stood frozen, unblinking, before running his tongue along his lower lip. He stared himself down, inspecting the details. The buttons on the sleeves, where the vest came together down his chest, how the coat reached all the way down to his calf.

You took cautious steps to stand beside him, unable to take your eyes off of his reflection. You’d never seen a simple suit come to life in such a way before. Like it completed him and he completed it. He looked utterly formidable, an impending force with the world just waiting to be at his mercy.

His dark eyes shifted over to you and you slowly lifted your gaze to meet his as a devilish smile pulled at his scarred cheeks. 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come! J isn't done with you yet.
> 
> Comments welcome as always!


	5. Part Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Alright! Here comes part four!
> 
> I’m excited for this one, guys. Things are getting INTENSE
> 
> I had to post this from my phone (RIP my laptop 😭) so the formatting might be weird. 
> 
> Warnings: angst? mentions of killing the reader, descriptions of cutting, blood, just a hint of knife play (not nsfw just yet)

A suit. It was a suit that put you in this position, standing next to him. He seemed even broader, taller, his presence more imposing. His smile said everything. It sent a shiver down to your toes, goosebumps prickling your back.   
You tried to move but you were stuck, staring at him. He had a look in his eyes, different than before. He knew the effect, his allure, the pull, that his just standing there was having on you. 

  
He basked in your reflexive attention, wide eyes taking in the way he looked in the suit. He looked… incredible. Striking. It turned out better than you’d ever hoped. Something fervent and inauspicious was displayed in front of you, stirring an unfamiliar feeling in your guts. You really weren’t sure how long you’d been standing there, looking at him. Seconds? Minutes? You opened your mouth but no sound came out, only a huff of breath.

  
“I, um, I’m sorry,” you finally managed to squeak past your vocal cords.

  
Joker chuckled through his nose and asked, “Sorry for wha-t?”

  
Your face flushed, heat rising into your cheeks. “U-um, I um, for staring,” you answered quickly.

  
He chuckled louder this time, sending butterflies quivering in your stomach with a queasy jolt. Looking back at the mirror, he said, “Uh, aren’t you _supposed_ to?”

You took a moment to process what he meant before swiftly jerking yourself in motion to grab your tailoring chalk and set of pins from the table, keeping your eyes down as you suddenly felt uncomfortable meeting his gaze again. Something about him wearing your suit set your nerves even more on edge, heightened with anxious energy buzzing through you. But you had to calm yourself. Focus, breathe. You decided to start with the back of the coat so that you could avoid his hypnotic eyes a bit longer.

  
Blowing a breath through your lips, you looped your measuring tape over your neck and approached him from behind.  
“I, I’m gonna check the fit of the coat,” you said.

  
His green-haired head nodded silently and you slowly reached out to touch the coat. In spite of your best efforts, your hands shook frustratingly, lingering out in front of you until you pushed past that pervasive hesitance and placed your palms on his back, between his shoulders.

  
The wool warmed by his heat met your skin, tingles shooting down your back in reply. Your anxieties were beginning to irritate you. Every little sensation, movement, or sound from him made you feel like you were on fire and it wouldn’t stop. Just keep going, he’s watching you, he’s waiting. Your own thoughts didn’t help either. 

You let the resulting electricity run through you as you moved your hands, smoothing the purple fabric until you reached the edges where you tugged at it, checking how it fit his broad shoulders. They curved beneath the heavy layer, the fit leaving just enough room to move them. Your heart pumped a bit faster, anxiety beginning to twist into some sort of exhilaration at the feeling of his form beneath your hands.   
It followed you as you checked the sleeve pitch, your fingers straightening the sleeve where it met the body of the coat, falling in line all the way to the cuff. They buzzed with nervous anticipation as you fluttered them over more of the fabric. It almost felt good. 

  
Routine took over while you continued to muse over the garment, now scrutinizing the details more carefully with pins between your teeth to pluck and slide into place over any areas where you felt the fit needed improvement. So focused on your ardent task, you hadn’t really noticed that you’d stepped in front of him, eyes glued to the lapels resting on his chest that steadily rose and fell, his body otherwise completely still. Like a living mannequin that wore your creation so perfectly. You marked where the lapels laid against the front of the coat with lines of chalk and stepped back to check the symmetry. Suddenly you stiffened and your pulse thrummed faster as you felt his eyes on you. 

  
You swallowed and slowly lifted your gaze, you breath quickening. He was staring at you. His expression was blank, unreadable, all you could do was stare back. 

  
His tongue flicked out over the forked scar on his lip, drawing your eyes to it, then to the rest of the damage to his face. There was no ignoring their presence. If people were always staring at them, then how much did he think about them? Do they still hurt? Would the phantom of the sensation that came with their creation spark with pain at random? Perhaps the damaged nerve endings conducted tangled signals, the haphazardly healed tissue trying desperately to function as it once did. Varying between feelings of numbness, stinging, prickling, overwhelming sensitivity, or any combination of these crawling across his permanent smile. Maybe sensations were elicited from no stimulus at all, as if recalling its own former trauma.

  
His gravelly voice pulled you out of your thoughts when he asked, “How does it look, hm?”

  
“It, it looks incredible,” you words tumbled out before you could think, prompting the heat of embarrassment to rise up to your ears. 

  
He grinned at you and replied, “Is that so?”

  
No knowing what else to do except play along, you nod slowly, your eyes still locked on each other’s. 

  
“Ahh the _creator_ speaks well of her _creation_ , hm?” he said.

  
“Uh, no! Well, I mean, yes? It, you, uh, I think it came together nicely,” you sputtered in response. 

  
Joker chuckled and responded in a husky voice, “Gooood.”

  
Your heart flipped in your chest and your lips parted to take in a deep breath. You didn’t know what to think about what was happening. You were afraid. But fear was now joined by another feeling. Some faint excitement reaching up from deep down inside, drawn out by the way he looked at you. They swirled together in your stomach, telling you to run away but keeping you there in front of him, filling you with some want for him to speak to you again. 

“Um, do you like the fit?” you finally asked.

  
He shifted his gaze back to the mirror and gripped the collar of the coat to shift it slightly. “You’re the ex-pert, doll,” he said, not taking his eyes away from the mirror. 

  
“Oh, o-ok,” you said quietly, almost under your breath, as your feet carried you toward him again. 

  
You walked around him in a circle, checking your marked alterations once more. It was perfect. But you could stand there all night, inspecting how it hung off his body. Why? You didn’t really know. 

  
Trying not to linger too long, you said softly, “It, um, it, looks good to me. So, uh, let’s have a look at the, um, the jacket.”

  
He slid the coat off of his shoulders to hand it to you, the fabric still warm in your hands as you draped it over the stand. You turned back to him to check the suit jacket, knowing his eyes were on you made your skin tingle. Hesitation flashed in your mind but was promptly snuffed out by the inexplicable fascination that continued to take you over. 

  
You reached out and took both sides of the jacket front in your hands, lining up the buttons with their corresponding holes and gliding them through. You walked around him, trying to focus on your task and not the quivering of your stomach. After checking the sleeves and making some adjustments, you reached for the buttons once more. You could tell him to take the jacket off, or you could do it yourself. Like you had no control over them, your fingers unfastened each button before moving to slide the jacket from his shoulders as he silently complied. 

  
Your hands trembled less the longer you touched him. It felt dangerous, getting used to that feeling of riskiness, imminent consequence not setting off the response it should be. Your feet should carry you away from danger, not draw you toward it. But oh, was it tempting. You stood closer to face him. The tension of your muscles and tingling of your skin had become strangely addictive, your nerves encouraged you to chase the feeling, despite what would be better judgement. 

  
Your systematic undressing left him standing in the pinstripe pants with the hem reaching just to the tops of his brown shoes, hexagon patterned shirt, and green vest that hugged his sides to outline his broad chest down to his lean waist. You stepped closer. He smelled like greasepaint and cigarettes. 

  
When you straightened the collar of the shirt, your fingers grazed over his neck in what was almost a seductive manner, raising goosebumps up your arms and suddenly the silence in the room became all too obvious. You sucked in a breath, pulled your hands back and froze with your eyes on his chest in front of you. It expanded with his breath that now warmed your face and you found yourself unable to move once again, stuck in the pull he had on you. 

  
There it was. The familiar feeling of arousal fluttered in your core and your face flushed. You cursed your body’s reaction. This can’t be happening. Not with him. 

“Look at me,” he said plainly. 

  
Your breath trembled slightly as you shifted your eyes up to meet his. His gaze sent your heart racing, overwhelming and entrancing. He looked as though he could swallow you whole. 

Fear is a fickle thing. It could save your life, keep you out of danger. Don’t go down that dark alley, someone might be lurking. Don’t touch that snake, it might bite you. But it can betray you, too. It can mingle with desire, giving you that toxic gift of adrenaline, flowing through your veins like a drug. It saturates your mind, drowning out the instincts you thought were instilled so steadfast. You reached for that snake to let it sink its fangs into your flesh.

  
“Are you afraid?” he asked, his voice thick like honey. 

  
Your eyes burned, locked with his dark pupils as you nodded slowly, your body acting on raw impulse.

  
The click of a switchblade met your ears and you stiffened as he brought it up to your cheek, holding the back of your neck with his other hand. Your body shuttered and twitched uncontrollably, your head beginning to feel light.

He stared deeper into your eyes and growled, “No you’re not.”

  
His words spun around in your mind. You were afraid, you wanted to be afraid. But something wouldn’t let it come to the surface. It shouted for you to run, scream, anything show him it was there. But it’s voice was muffled by the sick thrill that his knife at your cheek sent coursing through you. Would he cut you? Would he kill you? The threat of blood dripping to the floor weighed heavy over both of you. 

  
“Careful doll,” he rumbled, lowering the knife from your face. “Tha-t is a danger-ous game.”

  
Game? It didn’t feel like a game. Your chest squeezed uncomfortably when you thought about his knife dragging across your skin, the sting that would follow it as the surface split open. 

  
“A… a game?” you asked with your voice quivering.

  
He hummed and nodded his head, his gaze never breaking away from yours.

  
“Play with fire and you get _burned_ ,” he rumbled, bringing his face even closer.

  
Your heart pounded up into your throat and your blood ran hot. He saw something in your eyes. He knew. He knew the thought of being with him excited you and you had no control over it. You ached with need. A need that was new and sharp, pricking at your insides. You needed to know what it would be like. Had you lost your sensibilities?

  
Suddenly he stepped forward and you backed up reflexively, each step steering you backwards until you were halted by the wall, nowhere to go. He put his hand on the wall beside you and leaned against it. He lifted the knife he still held in his other hand and placed the point at the top of your chest, right in the middle. Then he leaned in, bringing his lips to your ear. 

  
A powerful shiver ran down your back as he spoke in a low voice, “How about now?”

  
This was the game. A contest of wills. Would you cry? Try to get away? Or would you bleed for him?

  
Your skin was set ablaze beneath the blade and your jaw clenched as you sucked air in through your teeth. A trickle of sticky red ran onto your shirt as he moved away with the knife, watching you through heavy lids. The tiny cut on your chest stung, the pain mixing with your heightened senses. It was confusing, this feeling of fulfillment. He still held the knife, he could still kill you. But this felt different. Your heart began to slow its unforgiving racing and you breathed deeply. 

  
His red lips twitched into a smile, impious and entrancing. 

  
“Ahhh look what we have here. There it iiis,” he purred. “Don’t forget, doll, the fire’s hot. Wouldn’t want ya to, uh, get burned too bad, hm?”

  
Your jaw dropped open slightly as you stared at him, speechless. What just happened? What does he mean?   
Before any words could form from your mouth, be stepped back. He clicked the knife into its handle and casually strolled back over to the mirror.

  
“You, uh, really have outdone yourself, doll,” he said, starting to unknot the tie around is neck. “You have ta-lent.”

  
You remained silent and wide eyed, stuck in place against the wall as he stripped down to his boxer shorts in front of you, rendering you even more stunned. Then he pulled on his tattered shirt and pants with the frayed jacket he arrived in.  
He straightened his collar and turned back toward you.

His eyes made your stomach quiver once more before he purred, “I’ll be back tomorrow. Looking forward to it, doll.”  
You blinked and the door closed. He was gone. 

  
Reality came rushing over you in a cold sweat. You slid down the wall to sit on the floor, suddenly gasping for air and panting as your hands trembled.  
You forced yourself to take deep breaths and closed your eyes, wiping the sweat from your brow as you leaned your head back against the wall. Then your eyes snapped open and you lifted your hand to gently touch your finger to your chest. You looked to see your blood glistening on your fingertip.

  
He cut you. Shallow and small, but skin was broken. You should have been afraid but you didn’t fear the act itself. No, you feared the feeling it left behind. The thrill was intense, filling you up with a strange euphoria. An arousal. You should be dead, drained of life by the point of a knife. But you only grazed the blade. You wanted to chase that feeling, follow it for more. Tangle with danger and let it touch you all over. 

  
You danced with the devil and he left you wanting more. 

  
\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo hope you all liked it! I’m pumped for part five! Look out for some smut 
> 
> Comments welcome and appreciated as always 💖💖💖


	6. Part Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, guys.. I’m a little nervous to post some more smut but I really hope you all like it!! It’s a little dark, as I alluded to a bit in the last part, please read the warnings below! Alright, here we go!!
> 
> Warnings: NSFW! - do NOT read if you are a minor or sensitive to graphic sexual content including: knife play, forced nudity, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, rough sex, edge play

\- **Part Five** -

You couldn’t sleep that night. Your mind incessantly whirred with thoughts about what had happened to a point where it made you dizzy. 

Rationality told you to leave the suit where it was, don’t touch it, maybe even skip town and get out while you could. But you didn’t want to be rational. So much of your life had been spent not going after what you want, putting the needs of others before your own, playing it safe. Now you wanted that to change. But it was the nature of this new need you ached with, this pervasive want, that kept you locked in place, head in your hands as you argued with yourself.

You’d never felt anything like that before. It was terrifying and dangerous and… addictive. That place beneath his knife with his breath at your ear gave you a taste of some unsettling and fantastic pleasure. The shiver that ran down your spine left you desperate. It reached deep down to your core and held on tight, intent on squeezing at your insides until you gave it more. 

You weren’t supposed to enjoy it, what he did to you. Or that’s what you told yourself. The more you denied it, the stronger the arousal became. He said you were playing with fire. Something inside you wanted to douse it with gasoline and watch it burn. 

Why not? Because it’s dangerous. You’ll get hurt. How badly?

He was egging you on, wasn’t he? Or was that just what he wanted you to think?

For hours these torturous thoughts spun around in your head as you stared at the ceiling. Exhaustion was about to carry you off to sleep when a sharp realization cut through your mind and you jolted up from your bed. He said he was coming back tomorrow. He would be back and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

You hurriedly got dressed and grabbed your keys on your way out the door, slipping your shoes onto your bare feet. The sidewalk was damp with rain that fell earlier that night. It was just after three o’clock in the morning, the street shrouded in an otherworldly quiet. You swore you could hear your footsteps echo off of the buildings. The red and green of traffic lights cycled for no one, the road free of cars. Your feet carried you without much thought. The shop wasn’t far, but you knew it wasn’t wise to walk in the middle of the night. This realization only came to you when you were already halfway there. But your continued to walk, numb to a fear that had once consumed you. 

Passing a familiar alley that possessed a new threatening personality in the dark, you stopped and stared into the blackness. It didn’t feel like you were expecting. The menace didn’t hold the same power over you that it once did. Your heart pounded in your chest, begging you to keep walking but you just stood there, waiting for something to happen. But the threat never came. Your breathing slowed and you continued on your route to the shop. You weren’t sure if it was the lack of sleep but for a moment it felt like you were the only person on earth, no one else around. Your steady steps stopped at the side door, which you unlocked and stepped through.

All other thoughts drifted from your mind when you saw the suit on the stand. It waited for you, ready to be completed. Any resistance to finishing it that you held onto was gone in the blink of an eye and you dropped your keys on the table to take the fabric in your hands.

Getting to work, you replaced the white basting thread with matching purple and grayish blue, stitching together the alterations and adding the lining to the coat and jacket. You settled on a bright copper and a deep red silk for the lining. Once the first rays of light shone through the curtains, you had finished the details on the pockets as well as special project you had started to busy yourself for the rest of the night, a pair of purple leather gloves. You used a template for the size of his hands, hoping but also strangely sure that it was right. The image of his hands had been burned into your mind.

Arranged on the the mannequin, the completed suit once again gave off a foreboding aura. Perhaps it was a reflection of its intended owner. You hadn’t forgotten the feeling that something significant was on the horizon, sparked by the look in his eyes when he wore it. You couldn’t look at it without seeing him, feeling his breath on your ear. Goosebumps even tickled your skin when you touched it. You were spellbound and he wasn’t even in the room. 

Your thoughts then turned to what you would do when he was here. Your resolve was already precariously thin and you feared that one more gaze from those dark eyes and it would shatter. You had to try. All self-control hadn’t been completely abandoned, right? You decided to face that temptation head on, see how long you could withstand the heat, ignoring that ache in your core that warned you it wouldn’t be long. 

He never said what time he would be back. You found yourself sitting at the desk, staring at the front door until almost noon, eyelids growing heavy. 

The sound of a car horn startled you awake several hours later, triggering a frantic scramble to the fitting area to make sure the suit was still there. Once your eyes found it right where you left it, you sighed and rubbed your forehead while you caught your breath. You couldn’t take this much longer. 

You moved to the work bench to try to busy yourself, only to stare at sketches you’d drawn just a few days ago. The sun was low in the sky by then, casting shadows on the walls that stretched and distorted with the sinking light. You watched them from the bench, a strange calm coming over you. Had your anxiety finally ran dry? You took a deep breath and felt the warm embrace of sleep wrap around you once again and your eyes closed as your head sank down toward the bench top. 

“Sleeping on the _job_ , hm?” a low voice hummed in your ear. 

Your eyes flew open as you took a sharp inhale through your nose and you abruptly sat up to see Joker’s painted face grinning at you from where he stood. Shocked, you froze in place in your chair, every muscle instantly tightening in anticipation not matter how hard you fought against it. You had tried to cast any attraction you felt out of your mind but your body had not forgotten. 

A satisfied chuckle rumbled from his chest and he said, “Wellll, it’s nice to see you again _too_ , Y/N.”

“U-um n-no I didn’t mean, uh, it-it’s nice to see you, um, Joker,” you sputtered, nearly choking on your words as you spat them out independent of any thought. 

He giggled before replying, “Ahhh, gooood. You have something for me then, _hm_?” 

You took deep breaths, staring at him and silently nodding your head before standing to take shaky steps toward the fitting area. The simple task of walking was requiring far too much concentration as your back tingled relentlessly just knowing he was behind you. 

Turning to face him once you reached the mannequin, you saw his lips curl into a chilling smile. He stared at the final product and nodded his head as he licked at his scars. 

“ _This_. This is a master-piece,” he said, reaching out to touch the coat.

You couldn’t help but smile back. Your stomach did somersaults and your heart raced. Reason made an attempt to surface, your conscience scolding you. You shouldn’t feel this way. The man was terrifying, a killer, crazy even, but his praises for your work spoke much louder than any rationalities that called out to you. 

“Thank you,” you practically whispered. Then you reached to retrieve the set of purple gloves you’d made from the table and turned to silently hand them to him. 

Joker stopped suddenly, admiring them through heavy eyelids. His expression changed to one that was unreadable as he pulled them onto his hands and flexed his fingers while he examined the stitching in the leather. They fit perfectly. 

He licked his lip and abruptly shed his faded jacket to hang it on the hook. You watched as he kicked off his shoes and began to unbutton his shirt. A stirring in your core rendered you unable to look away. He knew you were watching. He paused and tossed the shirt aside before exchanging his tattered pants for the pinstriped ones on the stand and stepping back into his shoes. Your breath huffed faster and faster as he gazed at you with his black-rimmed eyes, hitching in your throat when he stepped closer.

“How a-bout you _hel-p_ me with this, doll?” he asked in a husky voice. 

An incendiary heat rose up from your neck and you kept your eyes locked with his as your hands buzzed with pins and needles. Was this it? The edge of that cliff where your legs itched to jump off? The threshold between propriety and dark, indecorous temptation below? There was a strange stillness, yet you trembled with some contrasting force that clawed at your psyche, begging you to turn and run but ultimately falling silent in the depths of your mind. 

Your thoughts clouded with a thick fog, you approached the mannequin and removed pieces of the suit to slide off the hexagon shirt. Your skin rippled with goosebumps as you slipped it over his shoulders then turned to face him. With tingling fingers, you reached out for the buttons.

Your fingertips brushed against his bare chest as you fastened each button, sending a rush of heat between your legs and your breath quickened. The thrill pushed you to keep going. It was intoxicating, this indescribable tension in the air when you touched him. Your eyes remained averted from his, but you could feel him watching you intently and this only encouraged you further. He remained still when you gripped the waistband of the pants and pulled them up to tuck in the shirt, feeling his hip bones beneath the fabric, pressure growing inside your core. Next you clipped the argyle suspenders in place at his waist before picking up the vest. You slowly slid it onto his back and your eyes finally met his. His face was blank but something flickered in his eyes, sparking shivers down your back. Suddenly, the maddening need for him to touch you flashed in your mind and your cheeks flushed. You knew he could see it. He could see you wanted it. You stepped forward and toed the edge of that cliff. 

Trapped in that magnetic eye contact, you looped the tie around his neck and knotted it. You swore you could feel his pulse racing as your fingers brushed his neck to adjust the collar. Or was it your own heart that was racing? You breathed heavily, pulling your eyes away from his to move your shaking hands up the buttons on the vest, missing one in the middle as you felt his breath on your skin. 

You forced yourself to break away and picked up the suit jacket. He lowered his arms in, then you quickly grabbed the coat and moved it up his arms next, eager to see the competed creation in its rightful place.You stepped in front of him just as he finished pulling it over his shoulders. 

You couldn’t move again. His presence had become more intense, formidable, wholly powerful, just like the first time he’d tried it on. Only now it was amplified by lust. He breathed deeply and stared at you with fiery eyes. Your heart hammered in your chest as he moved closer. 

He stopped when his face was inches from yours, his closeness leaving you only to quiver in place. Your mind stopped working, torturous anticipation now the only thing you could feel outside of his puffs of breath. 

He leaned in and his gloved hand came up to grip the back of your neck as he breathed in your ear, “Are you afraid?”

You gasped when an urgent convulsion arched your back and you huffed as you slowly shook your head, meeting his fervid gaze with your own. 

He stared back, his eyes seeking out any hesitation that failed to show itself, before pulling you forward to crash his lips into yours. The smell of greasepaint, the sudden and brazen friction of his mouth against yours, overwhelmed your senses. Your eyes reflexively shut and your lungs burned for air as you gripped his coat tightly and kissed him back. His scars rubbed against your cheeks as he hungrily devoured you, relishing the taste. A wave of lust consumed you and your white-knuckled hold on the coat pulled him closer to press your body against his, a deep rumble coming from his chest.

Your mouths remained forcibly entangled as he backed up to a nearby chair, pulling you along then down with him as he sat. You straddled his lap and slid your hands beneath the lapels of the vest to feel the warmth of his chest radiating through his shirt as he continued to explore your mouth. His lips and tongue were unlike anything you’d ever felt before. Ravenous and consuming in their undulations. When his hands gripped your thighs, his thumbs digging in to the soft flesh, a moan escaped from your mouth.

Joker’s body tensed beneath you and he pulled your bottom lip into his mouth to bite down on it, drawing out a louder moan. That impure desire, need for carnal brutality that had been gnawing at you since his blade tormented your skin ran rampant through your veins. Profane pleasure flowed between your legs and your mind submitted, pleading for more.

He hurriedly freed his arms from the jacket and coat sleeves as he sucked on your bruised lip, making you whine into his mouth. Then he slid his hands beneath your thighs and lifted you up from his lap to lower you to the floor, his pelvis forcing your legs apart as an animalistic growl erupted from his throat. Releasing your lip, he moved his mouth to your neck where he latched on to nibble and suck at your skin. You panted and groaned as you writhed where he perched himself over you, flat on your back on the floor. He let go and lifted his head to look you in the eyes. 

He popped his lips before licking them then said in a low voice, “This is the poin-t of no _return_ , doll. You wanna play with fire?” 

A switchblade clicked next to your ear as you stared into his eyes, your chest heaving. He watched you, perched on the ledge of that cliff, so close to plunging over the edge. Just one little push. He rested the blade at your cheek, watching your pupils dilate when the cool metal contacted your burning skin.

Your lungs pulled in a harsh breath of air as you took the final step off of that ledge, embracing the fall to be consumed by relentless, aching longing that had been agonizing your mind and body.

You blinked and your lips parted before you answered, “Yes.”

He suddenly sat up on his knees over your lap and brought his blade to the bottom of your shirt to swiftly slice it open up to your neck as you gasped. Then he ripped the collar with his hands to expose your chest, his eyes trailing down your torso before leaning over you to place the knife between your breasts. His mouth found yours once more as he slipped the knife under the center of your bra, snapping it open.

A rush of air intensified the sensitivity of your already hardened nipples and you arched your back as your chest surged with heavy breaths. He let go of your lips and stared at you, holding the blade against one of the sensitive nubs. Desperate desire contorted your expression as you grabbed at his shoulders. It was like a dream, but not unlike a nightmare at the same time, facing your inner demons that beckoned you toward him. You knew he could hurt you, you wanted him to. You wanted him to taste you. The sharp point lingered, shallowly pricking the soft skin before suddenly being replaced by his tongue.

You cried out as he ran his tongue over your scorched nipple before taking it into his mouth, his hands gripping your rib cage with the knife tucked between his fingers. His high from the flavor of your damaged skin as you squirmed beneath him roused his appetite further. He moved his hand down to unbutton your jeans. He left them unfastened to reveal the waistband of your panties, pausing to look at you. His eyes never left yours as he lifted each hand to pull the gloves off with his teeth. Your core tingled as you gazed back at him, your arousal growing with increasing pressure. Then he slowly slid his warm fingers down your torso before plunging them beneath your waistband. Your jaw dropped and you gasped as his fingers grazed your folds, the corner of his mouth twitching at his fingertips meeting your soaked entrance.

Joker brought his lips to your ear and purred, “Hmmm, what do we have _here_? Al-ready wet for me?”

He swiftly pulled his hand out of your pants to pull them down to your knees and lay his hands on your thighs, his nails dragging across your skin. Your abdomen clenched as you greedily bucked your hips upwards. Your mind was flooded with chemical euphoria, pain and pleasure rising up in your throat, stifling the flow of oxygen.

“P-please…” you uttered breathlessly. 

“Shh, sh sh,” he hushed you, pinning your arms down with his hands and hovering his face over your panties.

His hot breath warmed the silky fabric and you felt yourself become wetter, fighting to stay still beneath him. He leaned in closer, his nose pressing against you while he took the waistband between his teeth. You huffed as he slowly pulled them down to expose your sex, the heat of arousal flushing your skin and drowning out what reticence you had left. 

He huffed, inches above your pussy, and said, “Mmm, but how do you _taste_?”

A groan emanated from your throat and every muscle stiffened when his tongue ran up your slit. You trembled and moaned with his face between your legs, unable to remain still as he circled his tongue around your clit and sucked it. Air stung your chest with harsh pants through your clenched jaw while he worked you with his mouth. His scars provided an extra, deeply carnal stimulation that you’d never experienced before. Pleasure from his disfigurement. There was no room for shame. The skin at your inner thigh came alive with a sharp sting from the tip of his knife and you hissed through your teeth as the sensation of his mouth at your pussy intensified, giving in to the wicked elation the pain gave you. Your core tightened and your mind swam in the dark waters of beastly satisfaction, lacing your fingers in his hair. 

He laid the blade flat and groaned against you when you gripped his strands and pulled, the rumble from his lips pushing you headfirst into orgasm with a powerful contraction in your core. Your eyes squeezed shut and mouth flew open, crying out from the depths of ecstasy with an arched back and blood running down your thigh. He gripped your hips while you rode out your high on the curling of his tongue, pulses of delirious bliss rendering you dumb-struck.

Your head was heavy with acute exaltation and just as you came back down to earth, Joker growled and moved his mouth to yours. You could taste yourself on him, his overwhelming voracity taking you over like he was going to swallow you whole. Then you felt his member pressed against your entrance and he abruptly stopped.

You opened your eyes to see him propped on his hands above you, staring down at you, his chest heaving with lust. Your eyes wandered down to his cock, now freed from his pants. You took a deep breath in, lips parting at the sight of his hardened length.

“Look at meee,” he growled.

He lifted one hand to grip your face, moving it to fix your eyes on his as he suddenly drove himself into you.

Sound was forced out of your chest as he gave you only a moment to acclimate to his size, roughly stretching your walls before he began to thrust. The slickness of your entrance pushed him into you harder and harder. The merciless pounding of his hips against yours left you unable to speak, throwing your head back with your mouth open wide as he burrowed himself into you to the hilt. His harsh propulsion drove you to higher, gripping his vest in your fists as the severity of his hedonistic fucking brought you more of the sadistic fulfillment you craved. Your core burned, the bruised and raw tissue sending mixed signals of pain and delight to your frenzied mind. 

The metal of his blade ran along your jaw line to rest below your chin. Your gaze met his once again as he lowered himself closer to you, the new angle pushing his pelvis against your clit and your eyes rolled back. He groaned and grunted in his chest, mixing with your whines as he continued to thrust with the knife at your throat. His movements scratched the blade against the delicate skin. Your heart pounded, survival instinct warning you of the danger. But you couldn’t hear it. Your walls tightened around him and your vision flashed red, release that could only come from his dissolute power over you, his mad and erogenous touch that could either kill you or immerse you in pleasure, bursting you open with twisted elation that sounded from your mouth as he growled. With a final strike of his hips, you felt him convulse as he came deep inside of you. 

You panted and gradually released your grip on his vest, opening your eyes. He was still inside of you, staring at you as he smirked and wiped the blood from his knife onto your skin. 

  
\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew!!
> 
> Comments welcome! Let me know what you think!


	7. Part Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo woooo! We’re back with more filth! Sorry my thirst has been unreal lately lmaooo there’s no hope for me 🙈 But I hope you enjoy it! There’s plot development (don’t worry it isn’t five thousand words of smut, oml) and Joker being Joker!
> 
> Warnings: NSFW content! Glove kink, fingering, orgasm denial, clothed sex, unprotected sex, semi public sex, against the wall, hair pulling

\- **Part Six** -

  
Your blood was warm and sticky on your skin. Heavy breaths swelled in your chest as you panted, eyes locked with his, and trickles of blood ran together with sweat while he breathed heavily along with you. That’s all you could do, breathe. 

A dream-like state still clouded your mind but what just happened was very real. You’d submitted to your most filthy desires, fell from grace, gave yourself with total abandon. You let it swallow you up, that darkness in his eyes. He knew exactly what to do to your body without you saying anything. Knew just where to touch you to make you squirm, so quickly learned how to make you melt for him. 

Joker held up his knife and slid the blade back into it’s handle, still not releasing you from his gaze as he kept himself propped over top of your naked form. Not only did you melt for him, you bled for him. Your vessels opened up to pour thick red out onto your skin. But bleeding eventually stops. The heavy and consuming lust, lust for him, that now possessed your thoughts and swirled with your blood, that was never going to stop. 

Knees still rested between yours, he leaned back to slowly pull out of you, leaving the mixture of your arousals to drip to the floor and your core feeling empty as he brought his thumb to your chin to nudge your lips apart. His mouth fused with yours, tongues rolling together, while he nearly sucked the air out of you. Just as you started to feel light headed, he released his lips’ bruising hold and ran his tongue over his bottom lip.

“ _Excellent_ job, my dear,” he purred, straightening up to tuck himself back into his pants. “Didn’t even get burned too bad did ya?”

Your expression twisted with confusion. His unexpected praises had a strange effect on you, making your heart flutter and sink at the same time. Excited anticipation melded with dread. 

You took a breath and quietly asked, “You knew, right? Knew I… I wanted you.”

A smug grin flashed on his face and his eyebrow raised. He leaned over you once again, propped on his hands on either side of your shoulders and he answered in a low rumble, “Ohhh I sure did, doll. Knowledge is pow-er and power over you is just, uh, _irresistible_.”

Afraid doesn’t describe how you felt. You should have been afraid, but you couldn’t quite feel it. All you could feel was the lingering tingle his hands left behind on your skin, the burning between your legs. A switch had gone off in your brain, crossing wires between pain and pleasure, fear and arousal. It was an eroticism like you’d never experienced before and you desperately wanted more. You reached up and grabbed his vest to pull him down toward you as you lifted your head, forcing your lips against his. It was your turn to devour him. 

But then Joker hummed into your mouth before abruptly breaking the kiss, his hand turning your face to bring his lips to your ear. “Ahh ta ta, gettin’ greedy are we?” he teased in a pleased tone before nipping at your ear lobe, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest.

A shiver jolted your spine and your back suddenly arched with need as you took a sharp inhale. You couldn’t stop the sinful moan that came from your throat and you gripped his upper arms, the muscles tight beneath his weight. He sucked the soft flesh of your ear then let go with a wet pop and suddenly pushed himself up from the floor to stand. You were panting again, a rush of cool air meeting your skin and making you suddenly feel cold without his heat above you. The thrill of his touch was abruptly ripped away, leaving you dizzy with want. 

“Absence, ah, makes the heart grow _fonder_ ,” he said, pushing his greasy hair back with his hand.

Your heart slowed as you propped yourself up on your elbows and your eyes trailed up his tall frame. His face was damp with sweat and red paint smeared wildly around his mouth, his tongue prodding at his scars as he watched you. Feeling unexpectedly exposed, you quickly pulled up your panties and jeans from below your knees and looked over at your shredded shirt and bra next to you on the floor before silently turning back to Joker. He smirked and you got to your feet, meeting his gaze with your own as you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“Do you, um. Do you mean you’ll be back?” you asked.

“Nothin’ gets past you, baby doll,” he answered.

That clash of excitement and trepidation tingled at the back of your neck again.

Then he reached down to the floor to pick up the button up shirt he wore into the shop and tossed it to you. Quickly moving one hand from your chest, you caught it and stared at the light blue patterned fabric. He blinked at you and licked his lips before turning to retrieve his new jacket and coat, raising his eyebrows at you as his gaze met yours again and he slid them onto his shoulders. Suddenly you realized why he’d given it to you and you swiftly pulled the shirt on to cover your naked chest. The garment smelled strongly of gasoline and something sweet yet spicy, like shaving cream. It smelled like him – intoxicating. 

After you finished buttoning the shirt, you looked up and noticed him reaching into the pockets of his old, tattered jacket. One by one, he silently pulled out knives of various lengths and shapes, as well as what you swore was a vegetable peeler, to stash them away in the many pockets you’d made in the coat. Your heart started to beat faster at the sight of how many knives he carried on him until he finally finished and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, putting one between his faded crimson lips. 

“Bit of a, uh, _cliché_ ,” he mumbled around the cigarette, “but this seems like an opportune time for a smoke.”

He stepped toward you and extended one out for you to take. His rather casual demeanor was confusing, it made you a bit nervous. The act you’d just committed was nothing short of feral and he behaved as though nothing was different. But you shouldn’t be surprised at his lack of modesty. No after sex discomfiture, no self-effacing glances or awkward discourse. He only exuded carnal satisfaction. He knew he’d just made you feel things you’d never felt before, there was no reason to avoid that fact. 

  
“Thank you,” you said, taking the cigarette from his fingers. 

The brush of his fingertips against yours raised goosebumps up your arm. It was as if you had no control of your body anymore. It belonged to him. Every little touch, every sensation evoked such a strong reaction from your frazzled nerves. His hands on your skin, his hot breath at your ear, his wet tongue tasting you, you went limp and could do nothing but breathe it all in. You belonged to him, but you loved it. 

He struck a match to light the end of his cigarette and locked you in a seductive gaze as he lifted it to light yours. Your eyes remained entranced by the dark brown pair staring back to you, looking you up and down with his shirt draped over your body, still flushed with the heat of sex. 

“Youuu are a real trea-t, doll face, a _feast_ for the eyes,” he said, releasing a mouthful of smoke into the air. 

Your cheeks went hot and you nearly choked on the smoke you were drawing into your throat. He may not have been awkward after what happened but you couldn’t seem to avoid it. It never occurred to you that he might find you attractive and even though he’d already had you, that fact was somehow intimidating. 

“Um, you think so? I mean, uh, I… thank you,” you stuttered as he chuckled softly. 

“Mmhm you’re, ah, a lot of _fun_ ,” he purred, reaching out to move your shirt collar aside, admiring the marks he left on your neck through heavy eyelids. 

The burning in your face crawled down your neck as you breathed heavily, lost for words. The lingering temptation hanging between you was torture. He had to be doing this on purpose, just to watch you tremble beneath his fingers. 

He smirked and brought his cigarette back to his lips as he turned to step away. You gained control over your breathing while you watched him pick up his new gloves and saunter toward the front of the shop, a thin trail of smoke following him. He dangled his cigarette between his lips to slip the gloves onto his hands on his way to the door.

After opening it, he turned and said over his shoulder, “I’ll see you soon, Y/N.”

You stood staring at the closed door for several minutes before a stinging from your thigh reminded you of your wounds that have yet to be tended to. Not marks of aggression, that wasn’t what they were. They were more primal than that. Your head suddenly became light and you backed up into a chair to collapse into it. You knew, deep down, that you’d give in. The temptation to chase that sadistic thrill was too great. He lit that spark the last time he saw you. He knew it was there, he just had to add fuel.

Ignoring the little voice of reason screaming from the depths of your mind, a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. You couldn’t deny that it was amazing, pleasure like none other. He’d touched you like you’d never been touched. Just like you’d wanted. But that urge holding your body hostage wasn’t fading, it still ached in your core. You wanted more, but when would it be enough? Never? He was like a drug, leaving you craving more each time. He said he’d see you soon. Does that mean he’d give you more of what you want? Do you run and hide? Or do you take it?

Your thoughts were becoming overwhelming as you neared closer to a subtle panic before forcing your self to take deep breaths. The smell of oil and musk filled your nose and your eyes trailed down his shirt you were wearing. Whether it was the right choice or your misguided attempt to protect your sense of reason, you decided to wait and see what happens. You’ve made it this far.

It was just after eleven o’clock. You looked around you at the rug under your feet that had just been defiled and saw the clothes Joker left behind. It didn’t feel right, leaving them in the shop. You stood to pick up the thread bare jacket and felt a weight in the pocket. After seeing what he’d taken out of it’s pockets earlier, you stopped yourself from reaching in at first. But curiosity itched your fingers and you carefully slid your hand into the pocket. Your fingers closed around a hard, rectangular object and you took a breath before pulling it out. It was a cell phone. He’d so carefully emptied the pockets moments ago but left it behind. It must have been on purpose. You slid the phone into your pocket and gathered up his pants from the floor. 

Locking the door behind you, you turned to face the street, few headlights passing by during the late hour, and you practically sprinted home. After dashing up the stairs, you locked your apartment door, feeling a flood of relief at the familiar sight of your home. 

You wasted no time getting to the bathroom to turn the handle on the hot water tap. As the tub filled, you stood in front of the mirror and prepared to undress. You stared at the floor while sliding your pants down and moving your fingers down the buttons along your chest before bringing your eyes to the mirror. Red smeared across your skin like watercolor, your mouth as well as breasts and between your legs baring the most rosy tint. Dried blood streaked darker down your thigh and at your throat, marked by his knife. You blinked at your reflection, evidence of what happened on display in front of you. There was a certain beauty to it, you almost didn’t want to wash it off for awhile. But the blood itched as it cracked and flaked on your skin and you lowered yourself into the bath. Ghostly red tendrils crept into the water as your cuts stung and muscles relaxed while you closed your eyes and sank into the warmth.

  
Your eyes didn’t open until almost noon the next day, the covers of your bed tangled around your limbs. You felt as though you’d dreamt all of it, but the faint, shallow scratches on your throat said otherwise. Time might as well have meant nothing as you spent the afternoon staring out the window of your apartment. Thoughts tangled with each other before drifting away to be replaced by new ones, cycling through exhilaration and shame, id and ego. Then your eyes landed on Joker’s shirt hanging from your bedroom doorknob.

The silence was broken by the buzz of the cell phone you’d left on the table beside you. Your breath hitched and you jerked forward to grab it. Quickly looking at the screen, you saw a text message from an unknown number. 

“44th and Grand. Southwest corner. Back door. 4 pm.”

Your heart pounded as you stared at the message. There was no question in your mind about who it was from and that it was meant for you. You couldn’t resist. That inescapable, instinctual, entropic desire was always going to win.

The clock on your stove read 2:40 and you hurriedly got up from the couch to get dressed. As you stared at the clothing in your closet, your favorite skirt caught your eye. An excited tingle prickled in your hands. Uncertainly made you hesitate for a moment but then you reached for it. Black with small pleats and just long enough to reach your mid thigh, you always thought it complimented your figure. It made you feel confident. Why not boost your own amour propre a little? You slid the skirt on along with a flattering top to complete the look. The skirt covered the healing cut on your inner thigh and the shallow scratches at your throat were very faint by now. Looking in the mirror, a smile crept onto your face. You were starting to enjoy playing with fire.

  
The address was taking you downtown, far enough to take the subway followed by a bus ride. You started to become more and more nervous as you got closer to the destination. Fidgeting with the hem of your skirt on the bus ride, you watched the buildings go by, looking progressively in more disrepair as the bus neared your stop. Then your heart started to speed up once the bus groaned to a halt at 44th street and Grand and you stepped out onto the sidewalk. Across from an auto repair shop, an old brick building stood at the southwest corner. There was no hesitating now. 3:55 pm. 

The building wasn’t labeled but the front faced 44th so you headed for the alley on the other side where there was a single door next to a fire escape. How the thought of why he’d instruct you to come there hadn’t entered your mind until then, you didn’t know. Was he planning to hurt you? Get you involved with some form of criminal activity? You just came there without questioning it. Your stomach sank and you swallowed hard, anxiety firing up all of your nerves. Why were you doing this? Just as you were about to turn back, the latch on the door clicked and it cracked open. Then the thought occurred, what will happen if you don’t do this?

Your feet carried you toward the door and you reached out to quietly open it. Peering inside, you didn’t see anyone but you heard voices. You took a deep breath and stepped inside to carefully close the door behind you. Men’s voices were coming from the other end of a short, dark hallway where you could see lights on through small windows in a pair of double doors. It looked like the kitchen in some sort of restaurant. There was a large walk in freezer and stainless steel countertops with supplies for food preparation. You tip toed closer, keeping your back to the wall as you tried to understand what the men on the other side of the doors were saying. 

“As you’re all aware, one of our deposits was stolen. A relatively small amount, sixty eight million,” one man’s voice said. 

Another man with a thick accent spoke up, “Who’s stupid enough to steal from us?”

“Two bit wack job, wears a cheap purple suit and make up, he’s not the problem, he’s a nobody. The problem is our money bein’ tracked by the cops,” said another.

You held in a gasp. It was obvious who they were talking about. This only raised more questions about why he’d bring you here. The voices became muffled as your mind raced. It was common knowledge that Gotham has an extensive mafia presence. You were convinced you’d made suits for some of them before. It was only a guess, but who else would have their money tracked by police? Your hands trembled with fear but you couldn’t help feeling a bit of a thrill, witnessing a mob meeting. Adrenaline made your heart flip. Joker stole from them? The voices continued on and you moved in closer to the doors to listen again.

“How soon can you move the money?” a deep voice asked.

The first voice answered, “I already have. For obvious reasons, I couldn’t wait for your permission. Rest assured, your money is safe.”

Suddenly a slow, sarcastic laugh echoed off of the walls and everyone fell silent. The sound was all too familiar. 

“And I thought _my_ jokes were bad.”

He’s here. Your breath hitched at the sound of Joker’s voice, followed by a threat from the deep voice. You tired to slow your breathing then heard Joker say something about a magic trick and something pounded on the table before a loud bang and thud on the floor. You pressed your hand against your mouth to keep a yelp from coming out.

“Ta daaa! It’s, _ahhh_ it’s _gone_! Oh and by the way, the suit, it wasn’t chea-p. You oughta know, you bought it,” Joker chuckled. 

A chair scraped on the floor and your eyes widened. You figured he’d payed you with stolen money but not from the mob. 

“Sit. I want to hear proposition,” the man with the thick accent said. 

Joker continued, “Let’s wind the clocks back a year. These cops and lawyers wouldn’t _dare_ cross any of you. I mean what happened? Your balls drop off? Hm? You see a guy like mee…”

“A freak,” the deep voice said.

Joker paused and you felt a tightness in your chest. You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of anger at the insult. Freak is a cowardly word, spat out in an attempt to make him look less powerful than he was. But it didn’t slow him down much. You kept your mouth shut and steadied your breathing as you stared at the wall in front of you and listened. He said he knew why they were meeting in broad daylight, why they were scared to go out at night. The Batman. Harvey Dent, the District Attorney, he was just the beginning and Batman would find the man hiding their money. His simple solution? Kill Batman. 

You swallowed hard and looked down at the floor. Batman, whoever he was, had been doing what they called cleaning up the streets. Swooping in, quite literally, to catch the bad guys red handed. You hadn’t made up your mind yet about what you thought of him, now Joker was offering to kill him for these men. For a price, half of their cash, stating “if you’re good at something, never do it for free.”

“You’re crazy,” someone said.

In a low voice Joker replied, “I’m not… No, I’m no-t.” Before continuing, “If _we_ don’t deal with this _now_. Soon? Little, uh, Gambol here, won’t be able to get a ni-ckel for his grandma.”

The man with the deep voice slammed on the table and shouted, “Enough from the clown!” 

Joker said quickly, “Ahh ta ta ta, let’s not blow this out of proportion,” as hushed curses and the sound of chairs being pushed out echoed off the walls. 

“You think you can steal from us and just walk away?” the man asked.

“ _Yeah_ ,” Joker answered to which you held in a chuckle that contradicted your anxiety. 

The man continued, “I’m puttin’ the word out. Five hundred grand for this clown dead, a million alive, so I can teach him some manners first.”

“A’right so listen, why don’t you give me a call when you wanna start taking things more seriouslyy. Here’s my card,” Joker said in a much to casual manner for having received a threat to his life. 

He hummed for a moment then next thing you knew he’d kicked the door beside you open and backed up through it. His eyes shifted over to you and a little grin tugged at his lips before he reached out and took hold of your wrist to pull you down the hallway with him. You quickly moved your feet to keep up with his long strides then he suddenly stopped, twirling you around to put your back against the wall. Your breath huffed in his face as he gazed at you through heavy eyelids, leaving only a couple inches of space between you. 

“How much of that did you hear?” he asked in a low voice.

Your cheeks burned as the worry that you weren’t supposed to hear any of it bubbled up from your stomach. 

Joker must have seen it in your face as he chuckled and said, “Relax, kitten. I figured I might as well let you in on the, uh, fun.”

“I – I heard all of it,” you managed to answer. Then you couldn’t help but ask, “Why?”

“Ahhh well what fun would it be if only I’m there to hear it?” he asked in return.

You couldn’t come up with an answer and only stared at him, your mouth slightly open as he smirked at you. As you expected, he was wearing the suit. The fact that he’d just been seen wearing it struck some sort of excitement in you. And so did the memory of his stock pile of knives in it’s pockets. Then you noticed his breathing had sped up too. His gloved hands slowly lifted to grip your hips and he leaned in. 

“I also figured we’d have some of our, uh, own _fun_ too,” he breathed into your ear. 

A satisfying shiver ran down your spine and you subtly bucked your hips toward him as you sucked in a gasp of air. This was probably the last thing you should have been doing but that flaming desire burning you up was too great and you melted at his touch. You grabbed the lapels of his coat and moaned softly as he latched his mouth onto the side of your neck. 

His teeth ran across the sensitive skin as his hot tongue came out to taste it and you gripped his coat tighter, trying to keep still, but heat was rapidly building between your legs already. He hummed against your neck as you pressed your head into the wall and panted when he moved his mouth to the other side of your neck and bit down. One of his hands left your hip and rested on your thigh, just below the hem of your skirt before slowly trailing upwards, lifting your skirt along with it. 

He released you neck to capture your lips and you returned his ravenous kiss, allowing his tongue entry into your mouth while his index finger lightly traced the waistband of your panties. You groaned into his mouth when his hand dipped beneath the fabric and he stroked the skin just above your sex. He broke the kiss and huffed with his eyes locked on yours as he withdrew his hand to suddenly move the crotch of your panties to the side and slid two fingers into you. Your mouth dropped open to let out a sharp gasp and he grunted while he watched your face twist with pleasure. 

Your arousal provided all of the slickness that was needed as he began to pump them in and out. The stitching on his gloves provided extra stimulation that added to the unreal satisfaction as you writhed atop his hand. You tilted your head back, unable to hold your sounds in, and cried out when he curled his fingertips up against your walls, hitting your most sensitive spot. A rumble came from his chest at his discovery of your erogenous zone and he pressed his nose against your temple. 

“Mmm now _there’s_ the spo-t,” he purred in a deep voice, gripping your hip tight with his other hand. 

His thumb suddenly pressed against your clit to rub circles and you moaned louder, your head falling forward onto his shoulder before you threw it back again while he played you like an erotic instrument. You huffed faster and took your lip between your teeth as your core burned and began to tighten. 

He felt you tense around his fingers and he murmured, “Ahh ah ah hold on there, doll. We’re not done here. You cum when I tell you, hm?”

You let out a huff of air and squeezed your eyes shut as you squirmed, closing your mouth over your moans that now turned into hums. He watched you intently, your body rocking back and forth, side to side out of your control as he continued to pleasure you. His tongue ran across his lip when you let your mouth open once again and your lewd sounds tumbled out. Your center ached, begging for release as relentless stimulation grew stronger with each consuming stroke of the leather against your tormented nerve endings.

Just when it was becoming too much, he leaned in and commanded huskily, “Cum for me, doll.”

You took a breath and let go, crying out when everything tightened and shockwaves of euphoria pulsed from your core. He hooked his fingers into you and pulled your pelvis toward him as you arched your back, letting the waves of orgasm run through your body. His lips sealed over yours for him to swallow your moans while he buried his other hand in your hair. 

Panting for air through your nose, he let go of your lips as your muscles relaxed with the fading of your high. With a deep breath you opened your eyes to see his dark gaze looking back at you, his breaths heavy. He pulled his fingers out of you, earning a small gasp, before spinning you around to face the wall. Your hands reflexively came out in front of you to rest flat against the wall, your cheek pressed against the cool surface as well. 

He hiked up the back of your skirt and ran his hands over the curve of your ass before sliding them up your sides as he pushed himself up against you while your jaw fell open. You felt the bulge in his pants press in between your legs and you groaned. His fingers had given you intense pleasure but you craved even more and moved to grind against him.

He growled in his throat and said, “Hmm lady’s choice, sloww or _fast_?”

A small grin came over your face and you blinked before answering breathily, “Fast.”

He chuckled as he pulled down your panties. You tingled all over, feeling the satisfaction already radiating off of him as you anticipated his thrusts. His pants were undone to free his cock and he ran his fingers through your folds to collect your drips, readying himself with it. Then he buried his nose into the crook of your neck before abruptly plunging into you, groans emitting from both of you. His hips began to move and he slid in and out of you with indulgent friction, soon picking up speed.

His hand wrapped around you hair and he pulled, bringing your head to his shoulder while you took in a harsh breath. Warm and wet, he sucked at your neck as his other hand gripped your waist like a vice while he thrusted faster. Then he moved his mouth from your neck and lifted your head to coax you into a slightly bent over position, your hands against the wall. It was then that he could really thrust.

You whined wantonly as he began to vigorously fuck you into the wall. Your entrance was scalded with his savage movements, the throbbing only amplifying your indecent satisfaction while he continued to ravish you and pull your hair back, opening your throat to let out your cries of ecstasy. His pelvis slammed into your ass and he let go of your hair to grip both of your hips, pulling you into him with each thrust of his hips as his rhythm became more erratic and growls from his chest louder. 

Then he reached one of his hands around your waist circle your clit with his finger. The sensation as he drove himself into you sent sparks through your clit, causing you to clench around him while your orgasm ripped through your body and you suddenly shouted, “Ahh fuck! Joker!”

He tossed his head back at the sound of you crying out his name and his throat erupted with a deep moan. You felt him pulse inside you and your core filled with warmth while you panted. 

His movements stopped and he leaned over your back to reach your ear where he cooed, “Now _that’s_ what I like to hear, doll.”

  
\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🥵 Whew! Thank you so much for reading!!
> 
> Comments always welcome, let me know what you think!


	8. Part Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey heyyyy I’m back with part seven! Things are starting to pick up with reader’s involvement in J’s plans, I hope you like it!! And I’ve admitted to myself that this is kinda a smut series lmao 😆 but I don’t want it to get repetitive so let me know what you think!!  
> And a special shout out to spicy-mikki for your help and inspiration on this one!! I love you and your beautiful mind!! 💕💕
> 
> Warnings: violence, attempted assault (not by J), criminal activity, NSFW!, light bondage, knife play, blood play, rough sex, unprotected sex
> 
> Musical Inspiration: Mr. Self Destruct and Closer by Nine Inch Nails

The car jostled you around when the back wheel bounced over yet another pot hole. You couldn’t see anything but knew Joker was sitting next you, the familiar heat radiating from his thigh pressed against yours. 

  
As soon as you got into the car parked in the alley off of 44th, he tied a blindfold over your eyes. “Don’t take it personally, doll face. Gotta maintain some of the, ah, mystique, hm?”  
About ten minutes had gone by in silence but it felt much longer than that as sweat gathered at the nape of your neck. The sun was still up, light filtering through the fabric tied over your eyes. It smelled a bit metallic. You tired to focus on controlling the pounding of your heart as it beat mercilessly against your ribs. Of course you were nervous, you had no idea where he was taking you and clearly he wanted to keep it that way. 

  
After he finished inside you in the back of that building, Joker made you an offer. 

  
“I _like_ the sound of my name from that mouth of yours, doll,” he purred in your ear as he pulled out of you. “I’d like to hear it more often.” 

  
Your legs trembled and burned like you’d just ran a marathon while you caught your breath with your forehead against the wall. What had you gotten yourself into? You let your lust carry you away. Now you were ensnared, wrapped up tight by his inescapable charm that held you down and left you begging for him to touch you. You were powerless to fight it. You should want to fight it, want to break through the concupiscent fog that clouded your mind. But you didn’t want to. You were past that. 

  
“You… you do?” you panted, turning around you face him.

  
He stood in front of you, tilting his head but not letting his eyes leave yours as he placed his hands on either side of you to lean against the wall. Those eyes could absorb you into their darkness at any moment and you’d do nothing to stop it. “Mmm, I do,” he rumbled. “How’s a-bout a little give and, uh, _take_? I give you what you want, well uhh what we _both_ want, and you provide some assistance with a little pro-ject of mine?”

  
You stared back at him, your eyes stuck studying his as your mind raced with the words he’d just spoken. Did he just offer sex in exchange for helping him with his criminal activity?

  
He never failed at reading your thoughts as if they were written on your forehead and continued, “Y’know my time is, shall we sayyy, _limited_. Lots to do, baby doll. And if I find anything you can do to move things along, _well_ , my sche-dule opens u-p.”

  
His voice dropped low and his nose nearly touched yours by the time he finished speaking. Just when you thought you couldn’t fall further down that rabbit hole, he dragged you deeper into the dark. Were you even in a position say no? You were quite literally stuck between him and a hard place. Did you even want to say no?

Your pupils still fixed on his, you slowly nodded. “What do you want me to do?”

  
A voice spoke from the front seat but you couldn’t quite understand what it said. Joker answered then the car took a sharp turn, causing you to fall over into his lap. His legs tensed and you felt the flush forming on your cheeks as you pushed yourself back up while a soft chuckle came from his chest. The car slowed and came to a stop before the blindfold was pulled down from your eyes.

  
The door opened and Joker’s gloved hand extended toward you to help you out of the car. You took it and a ripple of goosebumps ran up your arm, your eyes darting up to meet his. A smirk stretched his scars and he swiftly pulled you up to stand, your chest brushing against his. His closeness to you sent a burning sensation alight deep in your core while you swallowed thickly, suppressing your rising exhilaration. The glimmer in his eye said that he knew exactly what he did to you, how he made you feel, like he was challenging you to keep yourself together in front of the man accompanying him. 

  
You’d never been to this part of Gotham before. The neighborhood appeared to be largely deserted. A couple of stripped down cars sat in their final resting places atop cinderblocks, boarded up buildings surrounded by barbed wire lined the street, and broken glass crunched under your shoes. You turned to see that the car had been parked in front of a narrow three flat townhouse. The old brick was weathered and water stained plywood covered the windows. Joker approached the chain lock on the iron fence, soon popping it off the gate with a click before swinging it open and striding along the fence toward the back of the house. Your feet finally gave up their grip on the concrete and moved to catch up to him, his driver not far behind you pushing you faster.

  
Joker stood at the back door for a moment before it opened on its own and he stepped inside the dark house. Your heart jumped into your throat in his absence and you picked up your pace toward the open door. On your way up a decaying set of stairs, your eye caught a set of cameras watching from the wall above you and you took a deep breath before stepping through the doorway. 

  
The condemned historic home appeared to serve as a base of operations. A floodlight lit most of the dusty dining room and kitchen, scratched furniture and the shapes of overstuffed couches covered with ghostly sheets visible from the doorway. A myriad of weapons laid in wait on a large dining table. Your stomach dropped at the sight of automatic rifles, handguns, and an array of bullets within arms reach of a handful of men who were now staring at you.

  
Their eyes burned a hole through you and you felt yourself shrink back toward the door before Joker stepped in front of you. “Is there a, uh, _problem_ , gentlemen?” 

  
You swore you could hear one of the men grind his teeth as he stood and defiantly shifted his eyes between you and Joker. His gaunt jaw flexed beneath the patchy stubble on his face before Joker grumbled, “Somethin’ _eatin’_ ya? Hm?” and he slowly shook his head. 

  
Joker placed his hand on the man’s chest and shoved him to the side, the others clearing his path toward the living room. Your heart continued it’s relentless pounding as he cast a glance over his shoulder, signaling you to follow him. You rushed past the group of men that smelled of sweat and malt liquor, a shiver of anxiety running down your back as their eyes landed on you again. His purple coat stirred up dust from the creaking wood floor as Joker stepped toward what looked like an old surveillance television on a desk. He flicked the switch and static on the screen cleared up to show footage of a tall man with dark skin and a goatee getting out of a car in front of a brick building. He wore a three piece suit, a very familiar looking three piece suit.

  
“This guy look familiar to you, doll?” Joker asked as you watched the screen.

  
You recognized him but didn’t know his name, they never told you. He came into your shop months ago and ordered three suits. He was always accompanied by an entourage and only came in person twice, once for measurements, then again for the fitting. The rest of the time, you dealt with his assistant. It was obvious to you that his name was on a need-to-know basis, like a few other clients who’d ordered from you in the past.

  
You nodded, watching him as the camera followed him to the build’s side door. “Yeah… he does.”

  
A low chuckle came form Joker’s chest before he said, “He’s known as, uh, _Gambol_. Head of his own little piece of the mob action in town.”

  
Gambol. He’s the deep voice from the meeting. He put a price on Joker’s head. He called him a freak.

  
“I figured that, ah, _snazzy_ suit of his was one of yours,” Joker chuckled. “What d’you know about him?”

  
You looked away from the screen to meet Joker’s eyes, catching you in his entrancing stare. His eyes didn’t burn you. Instead they stirred up a pleasurable heat from deep inside of you, your blood rushing and breath becoming heavy. Your body reacted in ways out of your control and your mind wasn’t far behind. Any information you gave him would undoubtedly be used to hurt that man, wouldn’t it? 

  
Your mouth opened to speak but no sound came out. You just stood there, staring at him while your thoughts remained stubbornly blank. If something happened to this man, would it be your fault? 

  
“Cat got you tongue, doll face?” he said as he moved in closer to you. “I know what you’re thinking. But I’m sure you remember the, uh, little _promise_ our friend there made.” His breath washed over your face as his voice dropped deeper. “And here we are with a game of it’s _him_ or _me_.”

  
A tingle buzzed in your hands and your breath quickened. He knew what he was doing to you, making you question what you think is right. Either way, nothing about this was right. If you say nothing, he’ll find him anyway. You tell him something, maybe it’ll spare someone else down the line. If you tell him… he’ll give you what you want. 

  
You took a breath and said, “I have an address he gave me for his bill.”

  
Joker’s mouth curled into a grin before he reached up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, his glove brushing against your scorching cheek. The voice of your conscience had been holding on for dear life, calling out to you before it fell far into the depths while you stared into his eyes. You should know better. You heard it, but it might as well have fallen on deaf ears. He already had you. You couldn’t deny yourself of what he’d given you, of what he he had yet to give you, the craving was more than you could handle. He already had you.

  
Suddenly there was a click from behind him and Joker blinked before turning around to face the man who’d challenged him earlier, a gun in his hand. 

  
“Ahhh so somethin’ _is_ eatin’ ya,” Joker chuckled.

  
“This… this is bullshit,” the skinny man mumbled. “You get a – a girl and we’re left here just watchin’ a-and waitin’ well I’m takin’ ‘er.”

  
Joker approached the gun that was pointed at him, held in trembling hands, with a blank expression. He kept his eyes locked on the would-be kidnapper and stopped to stand with the barrel pressed against his chest but nothing happened. “I’m sorry, uhh, what was tha-t?”

  
You stiffened as you stood motionless behind him, fighting the hyperventilation that burned your lungs and made your head light. This was a different kind of fear. There was no thrill, no temptation, only terror. 

  
The man tried to speak but his jaw only chattered before Joker grabbed his wrist and swiftly forced it sideways, sending the man’s screams and a bullet fired at the wall ringing in your ears. His wrist broken, the man’s knees buckled and he fell to the floor. Joker crouched over him like a lion who just caught it’s prey, leaning in with the gun in one hand and the man’s collar in the other while he hollered with pain.

  
“You for-get yourself, friend. That’s no way to go about, ah, getting your _dick_ wet. What are you, hm?” The man only stared back at him with an open mouth and wide eyes. “Mmm that’s what I _thought_ … a coward.” 

  
The man kicked his feet, heels scuffing on the wood, trying to wiggle out from underneath Joker while he chuckled. He continued to struggle in vain until Joker rested the gun barrel on the man’s temple and he suddenly became still. 

  
“Your choice,” Joker growled before grabbing the man’s uninjured hand and wrapping his fingers around the trigger, his own gloved hand holding it firmly in place. “Show us you’ve got some brains one way or, uh, _another_.”

  
Without a second of hesitation, the man responded, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I’m sorry, b-boss. P-please. I got – I got brains.”

  
“Good man,” Joker said jovially before yanking the gun from the man’s grip and putting it in his pocket as he stood.

  
Your heart remained in your throat while you watched him walk toward the back door. You were sure you were about to witness that man’s death, your legs trembling and threatening to give out until Joker looked back at you and you nearly ran to follow him. Before leaving the dining room, he made eye contact with one of the other men and nodded. Once the door shut, you heard a shout immediately followed by a loud bang. 

  
The blindfold was over your eyes again while your mind tried to untangle the mess of thoughts keeping you still, alone in the back of the car while the Joker’s driver took you to your shop. You knew he’d killed people, at least that’s what the news said. What wouldn’t leave your mind now was the fact that, even though you just saw it happen, you could still look past it. You still wanted him. That man wanted to harm you, after all. Was Joker protecting you? That didn’t feel right. Maybe he was just making sure the rest of them know their place. Would he have reacted the same way if it wasn’t you the man wanted? Was he claiming you? 

  
You swallowed as your belly quivered at the thought, stirring up a strange fantasy. You started to revel in the idea of him beating the next man you looked at you wrong. Only he could have you.

  
The blindfold was pulled from your face, more roughly than you preferred, and the driver told you to go get the address and bring it back. You huffed and got out of the car to approach your shop’s back door. It was almost dark by now, the sky fading to a dark blue from a bright pink, any stars overpowered by the city lights. You hurriedly unlocked the door and headed straight for your desk to search your records. 

  
You opened the locked drawer and thumbed through the file folder that held all of your client’s information, at least what little you had for some of them. You didn’t have his name, so you must have put it under the month and year he ordered from you. The fear that you’d lost it began to sink your stomach and growing panic pushed you to look faster. You kept it, right? You always kept any contact information. When was that? It was cold out but there wasn’t snow on the ground yet. You grabbed the folder for November 2006 and quickly reached in to pull out an empty envelope with an address written in the corner.

  
2956 Lincoln Street  
Midtown, Gotham City  
New Jersey 08210

  
That’s it. You copied the address down on a scrap of paper and put it away in the folder, just in case. Then you quickly ran outside and extended the envelope for the driver to take. He nodded and rolled his window up before driving away, tires squealing on the wet pavement.   
You stood in the alley behind your shop, watching the car’s brake lights disappear around the corner. Your life was becoming more and more complicated. All you did was make a suit, just like you always did, and now you were probably an accessory to a crime. The street lights flickered on around you and drowsiness began to set in. You were too tired to dwell on it now. Your feet ached as you climbed the stairs to your floor, muscles you weren’t aware you had making themselves known with a dull twinge. The key to your door clicked in the lock and you drifted toward your bedroom in a daze. After shedding your clothes, your head hit your pillow and you were separated from the world for the night. 

  
_______________

  
The next day felt unusually calm. The sun was shining, a pleasant breeze blowing, pigeons softly cooing while they pecked at the sidewalk. You felt light, your shoes barely making contact with the concrete as they carried you to the shop. It was like you were numb, your mind not allowing you to feel anything. You knew you were helping a dangerous man. A man who clearly knew how to get what he wanted, even convince you it was also what you wanted while he was at it. He reached inside your head and took your thoughts to twist them around, molding them into what he wanted you to think without you even noticing. Blinded by his charm, by his touch. Is that was he did? Or were you really that selfish? 

  
You were so lost in thought, trying to convince yourself that you had control over this situation, that maybe Gambol was already doomed even if you didn’t give Joker the address, you didn’t see the car following you down the street. 

  
You opened the side door and started preparing to open the shop, the actions programmed in your muscles, requiring no thought or attention. The ritual ended with unlocking the front door and turning the sign over to “open”. The shop felt foreign to you today. It didn’t strike any need to keep your hands busy with pins and fabric like it usually did. Instead, you felt lost. Unable to focus on anything, you sat behind the desk and stared out the front window at the traffic going by, a whole city out living and breathing while you sat stagnant in your chair. 

  
The door opened and you snapped back into room, jerking your head toward the sound. An olive skinned man with dark, slicked back hair, a trimmed beard, and a gold chain with a large canine tooth on it around his neck walked into the shop, his expression vacant as he approached the counter. 

  
You swallowed thickly, your mouth suddenly devoid of moisture. “Can I, um, can I help you?” you choked out.

  
“You tell me,” the man said with a thick accent.

  
Your heart nearly stopped when you recognized his voice from the meeting. He was the only one who wanted to hear what Joker had to say.

  
While you stared wide-eyed at him, he continued, “You make suits?”

  
Ok, breathe. Maybe he doesn’t know who you are. You tried to act normally, sucking in air to answer, “O-Oh, yes. I do.”

  
He nodded and said plainly, “I need suit.”

  
“Ok. U-Um, what did you have in mind?”

  
He continued the be extremely vague, his answers to your questions frustratingly short. But he didn’t leave, he just kept watching you and replying in indistinct generalities, choosing whatever option you gave him first while you started the ordering process.You started to get the feeling he wasn’t really here for a suit, but what could you do? You couldn’t let on that you had some recognition of who he was, you just had to keep going until he left. Then it came time to take his measurements.

  
You got a sour feeling in your stomach.You wanted nothing more than to stop touching this man. He smelled like stale cigars and his cologne burned your nose. He kept his eyes forward and asked you your name. Without giving it a second thought, you made one up. Stretching the measuring tape over his arms and legs, around his waist, it wasn’t like with a normal customer, the air was far too dense, almost choking you. But it wasn’t like it was with Joker. 

  
With him, the air was electrified. All you could think about now was the feeling of his burning hot skin beneath your fingers while he watched you through dark eyes, about how he touched you. Your mind sailed away to a place where his rough hands were sliding up your thighs, coaxing your legs apart while he breathed in your ear. Reality came back to you when you wrote down the last measurement and looped your measuring tape back over your neck, blowing a deep breath out as you tried to ignore the warm damp that had collected between your legs. 

  
“You call me Chechen,” he said as he shrugged his leather jacket back onto his shoulders. 

  
You could only nod, words to tangled up in your throat to come out. He told you he’d be back to give you a down payment then suddenly left, leaving you standing at the desk, pen in your hand ready to take down his information. Life was only getting more complicated.

  
_______________

  
Your head was still swimming with confusing arousal on your way back to your apartment that night. 

  
All it took was one thought of him in that way and you couldn’t shake it. Then you remembered his deal with you. He said he’d give you what you want. That feeling in your core was back with a vengeance. A tight knot between your legs, making you feel unsettled, wanting. You needed relief. It needed to happen, even if it had to be by your own hand.   
The haze of hormones followed you up the stairs to your door, your eyes on the floor, and you absent-mindedly turned your key in the lock then kicked your shoes off once you’d shut it behind you. You sighed and rubbed your forehead, finally lifting your gaze up in front of you while you shuffled your feet away from the door. 

  
The sound that came from your mouth was involuntary, pushed past your vocal cords when you looked up to see Joker silently sitting in your living room, watching you. 

  
“Didn’t mean to, ah, _scare_ ya, doll,” he chuckled. 

  
You panted with your hand on your chest, catching the wind that was just knocked out of you by his unexpected presence. “You… you did.” Then the thought dawned on you. “You, um, you know where I live?”

  
A dark grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Of course I do. You’re not difficult to follow, sweetheart.”

  
You nodded, finally catching your breath and slowing the pounding of your heart. Honestly, you weren’t surprised after all. Joker obviously knows a thing or two about finding things out about people. This should have frightened you, of course. But of course it didn’t. You should have been afraid of so many things you’d been through in the past week but it just wasn’t there. You only felt the burn of your desire, the fired stoked by his ability to find you so easily, bringing himself closer to you. 

  
He stood and started to close the distance between you, leaving his coat and gloves behind, his sleeves rolled up. His gaze was heavy, carrying the weight of the lust you could see in his eyes while his tongue flicked out over his lip. “We had a _deal_ , didn’t we?” 

  
Your belly tightened and lips parted while you watched him come toward you, nodding in reply once more. You were frozen, stiff, staring at him with nerves at attention, on fire in anticipation. You were under his spell once again, a spell you’d so desperately wanted to take you over.

  
He got closer until you felt his breath on your face as he dropped his chin to bring his nose inches from yours. One of his hands gripped your hip, pulling your pelvis to press against his. His other hand was at the back of your neck, fingertips over your racing pulse while his lips grazed yours. “Well I’m here to, uh, hold up my end of the dealll.”

  
Then his mouth took hold of yours, his kiss raising an eruption of goosebumps across your skin while he buried his fingers in your hair. The craving you felt grow stronger while his lips melded with yours and you reached up to grip his shoulders, groaning into his mouth when he ran his tongue across your lip.

  
Suddenly he let go of your hair and hoisted you up from beneath your thighs to wrap your legs around his waist, your arms linking behind his neck. A rumble vibrated his chest when you swirled your tongue around his and he took distracted steps toward your bedroom. He tipped over onto your bed, laying you on your back with his pelvis spreading your legs. Your lips were released for him to move his mouth to your ear. 

  
“We’re gonna have some _fun_ , doll,” he purred, his breath hot on your skin.

  
Your jaw dropped, a shiver running down your back while you sucked in a gasp, the wet between your legs intensifying. He sat up on his knees and started to loosen his tie while his chest swelled with heavy breaths beneath it. Locking eyes with you, he slid it off from around his neck. Then he unbuttoned his vest and shirt, leaving his suspenders to fall to his sides when he slid the garments off of his shoulders. He kept his eyes on you while yours trailed down his bare chest, muscle outlined with each breath he took. 

  
Joker leaned over you and slowly pulled your shirt up and over your head to toss it aside. Then took hold of your wrists to bind them together with his tie, the silky fabric securely knotted. His fingers moved in such a fluid and nimble manner, like he was handling something that could easily break. The warmth of his hands combined with their rough, calloused surface made your stomach flutter and he lifted your wrists to coax your arms above your head. His gaze kept you still while you watched him sit back up to click a knife blade from its handle. By your next breath, his nose was inches from yours again, propped above you, the heat of his skin radiating against yours. 

  
“Say the worrd, kitten, and soon you won’t know which way is _u-p_.”

  
Your heart pounded, breathing in his face while he waited for your answer. This was what you wanted. Why hold back now? The dark pupils staring at you had an intense focus, feral, providing a glimpse of the hungry beast he held inside. You wanted to satisfy that hunger. Give yourself over, an offering to the power that he held over you. To cry out for more. 

  
Your tongue wet your lips and you nodded slowly, keeping your eyes locked with his. He growled and laid the blade flat against your abdomen while he brought his mouth to your neck, just below your jaw, teeth raking over the sensitive skin. 

  
You felt the knife on your belly turn onto its edge and Joker’s lips brushed against your ear as he breathed into it, “Hold. _Stilll_ ,” his voice deep and husky. 

  
His mouth trailed down your neck while you huffed, fighting your need to squirm beneath him, the sharp point of the blade pressed just below your navel. Then his warm tongue licked across your collar bone to your shoulder where he took your bra strap in his teeth to slide it down. His mouth moved down your chest as he reached behind your back to swiftly unhook the band. You moaned and just barely stopped yourself from arching your back when your nipple went into his mouth, between his teeth, your chest heaving with heavy breaths. He made his way to your other breast, caressing it with his mouth while you whined. Your wrists strained against your restraints, desperate to touch him, to do something. Then he kept moving down, his nose buried in your plush skin as he nipped at it and marked it with his tongue, his blade still keeping you still with your arms bound over your head. The pleasure was torturous. He knew you wanted to move your body, to buck your hips and writhe with the movements of his tongue. But didn’t allow you to, taking his time while he explored your body. 

  
Your need only intensified when he reached the waistband of your pants. He put the knife between his teeth to swiftly unbutton them and pull them down with starved force. The knife back in his hand, his eyes gazed up at yours, expression dripping with lust while he ran his tongue over his lips. You stared back taking deep breaths through your nose while forcing yourself to keep still. The relentless pounding of your heart pulsed in your throat and you curled your fingers into your palms, your nails biting the sweat dampened skin. He watched you take your lower lip between your teeth and the corner of his mouth twitched. Then he slid down to lay between your legs, his thumbs over your hip bones before be began to kiss around the edges of your thin panties. 

  
The warmth at your core prickled and you felt the fabric soaking through before he ran his tongue along the crease where your inner thigh met your pelvis. A rush of air filled your lungs, pulled in through gritted teeth then escaping past your vocal cords with a deep moan. Your body stiffened and twitched, you almost couldn’t take it anymore, but still you didn’t move, watching the satisfied look on his face. 

  
“ _Good girl_ ,” he murmured.

  
With a dark grin he took the point of the blade and dragged it lightly across the skin just above your waistband, making a shallow cut that lit up your sensitive nerves with a scalding sting before being replaced with his tongue as it came out to lick the blood away. The pain and satisfaction drew out a long groan while he breathed heavily against your skin and dropped the knife to allow you to move.

  
Your whines filled the room and you bucked your hips up to his mouth when he licked your slit through the fabric of your panties before moving them to the side to tongue your entrance. Your head swam with impure satisfaction, flexing and contorting against the sheets while he swept his tongue through your folds, holding on to your hips to keep his face between your legs. He paused to pull your panties down by the waistband and muttered something about what a beautiful pussy you have before brashly massaging your clit with the voracious muscle. 

  
Everything went white with blinding pleasure and your lungs screamed, eyes squeezed shut, back arched, while your throbbing bud pulsed with wet electric shocks from the flicking of his tongue. Suddenly, the warmth of his mouth was gone but before you could open your eyes, his pants were open to free him and you felt him sink into you, your entrance slick with arousal and saliva, more sounds surging from your open mouth. 

  
His hips rolled into you and a deep groan thrummed in his throat before he grasped your chin with one hand, the other holding him up over top of you. 

  
“Thaat’s it, doll –” he grunted. “How _hard_ d’you want me to fuck you, hm?”

  
Blood seeped from the cut on your pelvis, smeared onto both of your skin with each languid thrust of his hips while he gazed at you. The teasingly slow friction against your walls only made you want more. Desire swelled from deep within your belly, egging you on, pushing you to scream for all he could give you. 

  
You took a breath in and answered, “Hard. Hard! Please!”

  
“Mmm you got it, sweetheart.”

  
A groan was forced from your mouth when he drove himself deep inside you, reaching further in than you thought was possible, before he started to harshly thrust, his hip bones crashing into yours. You struggled for air, grabbing over your head for anything to hold on to before gripping the covers with white knuckles. You couldn’t keep yourself from crying out, throwing your head back into the pillows with your mouth open wide. The rhythm turned to a pressure that grew within you with increasing intensity. Burning, reddened, swollen. Painful pleasure, pleasurable pain. It was dizzying. 

  
His hands found your hair, lacing his fingers into it as he supported himself on his elbows, swallowing your moans with his mouth over yours. He kissed you with an urgency that matched the pounding of his hips. You wanted to taste him, more of him, and took his lower lip into your mouth to bite down. A deep groan came from his throat, the tightening inside you near to bursting, and when he angled himself to shove hard against your sensitive spot – release. A heated cry erupted from your mouth while your body went stiff, waves of frenzied euphoria pouring from your core. Blood roared in your ears and you felt warmth pulsing deep inside you, held there while Joker gripped your face. 

  
The room came back into focus while you panted to catch your breath, his chest was wet with sweat, drips of diluted white running down his neck. He was still on top of you, huffing heavily along with you. He reached up to pull on the tie around your wrists, freeing them to fall at your sides. Your eyes met his as his tongue came out to catch the blood welling up from his punctured lip and a sinful smile stretched across his face.

  
\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew!!   
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! 🔥🔥   
> Comments welcome as always, let me know what you think or if there is anything you’d like to see! 👀


	9. Part Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiii I’m finally back with part eight and I’m really excited about it!! 🎉 Reader is really getting herself in deep now… Please read the warnings below and do not interact with this story if you are a minor! I'm turning up the heat a bit and I really hope you all like it!!
> 
> Warnings: adult language, somewhat attempted kidnapping, anxiety, mentions of prostitution, trash talking, gun violence, blood, NSFW!, dirty talk, somewhat possessive J, glove kink, fingering, exhibitionism, forced exhibitionism (oh yeahhh, a long list for this one)

It’s been three days. For three days, you’ve been waiting. Waiting to hear from him. You hated how hard it’s been to wait. It was like you were addicted to it, that rush you got when he put his hands on you, his lips grazing you ear when he growled into it, the sharp edge of his knife against your skin. Just the thought of it raised goosebumps down your arms. It wasn’t fair, the hold he had on you. You couldn’t go more than a couple of hours without thinking about him. It was frustrating. He was making you wait and your need to feel him only continued to intensify. But you kept waiting. What else could you do?

You tried to keep yourself busy at the shop in an attempt to stifle your frustration. You finished a pantsuit for the mayor’s wife in record time and then had… nothing. You couldn’t stand the passive waiting anymore so you started working on a personal project, a skirt. A very flattering skirt. The fabric flowed like water with your movement, earning a smile on your face as you twirled in front of the mirrors. The hem landed exactly where you wanted it, far enough up your thigh to showcase your legs but not enough to reveal what was between them. You couldn’t help but wonder what Joker would think about it, what he’d think of how it looked on you.

The sun was starting to set so you went through the ritual of closing the shop. Turn the sign around, close the curtains, sweep the floor, clean the mirrors, lock up the cash register, turn the lights out, turn on the alarm, lock the doors. It was kind of soothing, the repetitiveness of it. It was almost like meditating. You turned to walk down the sidewalk, your serene thoughts keeping your eyes focused on the ground while they lulled you into a state of remiss. Before taking a step in the direction of your apartment, a car door opening next to you startled you out of your daze.

You were pulled by your arm into the backseat of a car parked next to the sidewalk. You hadn’t even seen it there, it may as well have appeared out of thin air. A hand clapped over your mouth, stifling the alarmed scream that involuntarily welled up from your throat. You landed on the seat and gasped for air when the hand moved from your mouth, your eyes wide, trying to tell your brain what you were seeing, but the signal just couldn’t make it past the jumble of adrenaline induced panic. Then he spoke.

“My suit. Have you finished yet?”

Suddenly, it all came rushing back to you. The vague order, gold chain, air thick with the smell of stale cigars. How did you forget?

“You must excuse my man, he lacks manners. Let’s start over, yes?” Chechen asked.

Fear stopped dead in its tracks and was overtaken by anger. The simmering irritation and annoyance you’d been feeling lately rushed over you and your face grew hot.

“If you wanted to ask me that, why didn’t you just come in when the shop was open?” you nearly shouted, trying to control the volume of your voice. “You almost gave me a heart attack! Why did you do that?”

“I said to you, my man, he has no manners. We wish not to attract attention, yes?”

Your upper lip twitched, and you snapped back, “Well that’s not exactly the best way to do that, is it?”

Chechen’s expression turned dark and he raised his chin as he squinted at you. “Careful what you say, girl. Not everyone is kind as I am,” he sneered.

Your blood ran cold as the gravity of the situation finally made itself known to your exasperated mind. This felt far worse than being trapped in a car with Joker. That sour feeling dropped in the pit of your stomach.

“I know about the clown,” he said, leaning back in his seat across from you. “You work for him?”

Try not to panic. Don’t freak out. It won’t help. There’s no way he knows about… that. Just say something. Forcing your tight jaw to release, you said quietly, “Not, um, not really. I… made his suit but I don’t _work_ for him.”

You swallowed down the acidic anxiety rising up your throat while he sat in silence, staring at you. You fought to keep still, trying to hide the damning angst that was twitching your muscles and beading sweat on your brow. You never were particularly good at lying.

“What d’you know about the money? You know Lau?”

Who? You furrowed your brow, and this time could say with sincerity, “Nothing... I… I don’t know who that is.”

He took a cigar out of the box next to him and put it between his teeth before lighting the end with a silver lighter. Your heart pounded while you watched him, waiting for him to say something. Was he about to hurt you? Kill you? The smell burned your nose.

“What _do_ you know?”

There’s that anger again, pulling you face into a scowl. “I know his measurements,” you answered plainly.

Chechen chuckled, mashing the blunt end of the cigar between his teeth. You felt like you could gag. Then he replied, “Well, is clear I am waiting my time, no?” He waited until you nodded warily, keeping your eyes on the glowing end of the cigar, and continued, “So, say I check on you soon, I’ll not find what I look for?”

Heat burned your ears and the scowl remained stuck on your face as you shook your head slowly. “No.”

He leaned back in his seat again, taking his time to puff on the cigar. Then he nodded his head toward the car door and the man who’d dragged you into the car opened it to suddenly pull you out. You ripped your arm from his grasp shot a glare over your shoulder as the car pulled away, the brake lights fading into the darkness down the street.

You spent the rest of the evening fuming. The nerve of that vile man, pulling a stunt like that. You knew you should be afraid, and you were, but you couldn’t help but feel some sort of thrilling defiance too. It wasn’t clear whether Chechen knew about your _arrangement_ with Joker but, how could he? No one has seen you together, have they? If he knew that much, his questions would have likely been very different. He seems to think you know someone named Lau so at least he’s wrong about something. It felt like what you were doing with Joker gave you a kind of power. You were getting so much more out of it than anyone knew and that felt… exciting. A strange arousal started to grow warm in your core. The more you thought about it, the warmer it got. Almost like you wanted someone to know.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the buzz of the cell phone on the coffee table. You jumped in your seat before diving forward to grab it. Unknown number.

“1201 West Burnley. 9:30 pm. Tonight.”

Whipping your head around to face the clock, your heart jumped into your throat when you saw the time. 8:52. You scrambled to your feet and began to frantically stuff things into a small bag before running into your bedroom. You frowned at what you were wearing and started to change your clothes, tossing your work appropriate attire onto the floor. Then you remembered, you brought your new skirt home. A brief smile at your reflection preceded your continued rush out the door and down the stairs. 9:08. There’s no way the bus will make it in time, you’ll have to take a taxi.

Your hand shot into the air when you spotted the yellow glow of a taxi light. It pulled over and you took a deep breath before pulling on the door handle. You weren’t particularly fond of taking taxis. It was always a bit of a gamble in this city. Please don’t be a creepy old guy, please don’t be a creepy old guy. You sighed with relief to see a woman with curly red hair behind the wheel.

“Where to?”

“Um, 1201 West Burnley.”

The driver raised her eyebrows and asked, “You sure?”

Your stomach dropped and you quickly nodded. But there’s no turning back. There was no fighting your need to see him, to do what he told you, to get what you wanted in return. You chewed your lip as thoughts of his hands, his lips, his tongue, sent your heart racing. Then you quickly blinked your eyes and shook your head a little, trying to focus your attention on something else, trying to ignore the warmth between your legs.

“I don’t wanna be too nosey but, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s taking you to Burnley? It’s not exactly a nice place to be even when the sun’s up.”

The driver could see your eyes widen in the rearview mirror. Lie. You had to come up with a lie. “Um, well, I… I’m meeting a friend.”

Yeah, excellent lie, she’ll _definitely_ buy that. You swallowed as your mouth became dry and cursed at yourself under your breath. She didn’t say anything yet, but you could sense some skepticism coming from the front seat.

“It’s ok, I get it. It’s hard just gettin’ by in this godforsaken city. No more questions asked, just keep yourself safe, ok?” she replied, keeping her eyes on the road.

Your cheeks grew hot when you realized what she meant. You were mortified but what could you say? _Oh no, you got it all wrong. I’m actually going to meet the Joker because we have this arrangement, you see._ You had to play along. “Yeah, um, I’ll be careful.”

The rest of the ride to the Narrows was spent in awkward silence. You kept your eyes down, trying to avoid glancing at the driver in the little mirror. It was irritating, really. It was so impolite of her to assume that about you. It might have come from good intentions, but you didn’t need that from her, you could take care of yourself. You tried to control the anger that started to well up and furrow your brow, clenching your fist and pushing it into the seat. Then the thought of where you were going suddenly sent a shiver down your back. You haven’t been to the Narrows in years and you’ve never gone there at night. You found yourself wishing you had some kind of weapon, but you had nothing. In your hurry to make it in time, you didn’t think to take anything like that with you. Maybe the driver was right, this was a bad idea. But you had to go. You made a deal. By now it felt like a deal with the devil. But you took his offer, didn’t you?

9:32. The taxi pulled over and your heart started to pound. Everything you knew told you not to get out of the car, but your hand reached out and opened the door. You turned to the driver and handed her some crumpled bills from your bag, enough to pay for the ride with a little extra. She glanced at you once more before you quickly looked away and stepped out onto the sidewalk, swinging the door shut behind you.

You took a deep breath, subtlety looking up and down the street. There were so few streetlights here. The weather worn buildings, covered in overlapping fragments of graffiti, looked as though they were ready to be torn down. And it seemed unusually quiet, making your unease that much worse. You took a few steps closer to the nearby streetlight, trying to decide if it was better or worse to be under the light.

“You’re late.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, stifling a shout and whipping around toward the sound of the voice. A man in a hooded sweatshirt, his hands in its pockets, was standing just outside of the light’s reach.

“I-I’m sorry,” was all you could manage as a response.

He stepped forward and you could see that he had short, dark hair atop of pale and fairly gaunt features. “Follow me,” he said, turning to start walking down the sidewalk at a brisk pace.

A little flutter of anxiety ran through your stomach before you jerked yourself in motion to catch up to him. He said nothing, never even casting a glace behind him to make sure you were still there, as you followed him for over a block in the dark. This was such a bad idea. But you were already here, where could you go at this point? This street was deserted and wandering around on your own to find any signs of other people sounded like a worse idea. So, you kept following.

After making a left turn and walking another block, he stopped. You’d arrived at what looked like an abandoned apartment building. Some of the windows were broken and the brick was just visible beneath chipped and fading layers of white paint. He continued on to the alley alongside the building to knock on a door labeled “Emergency Exit”. You approached cautiously while he waited, his eyes glued to the door. It seemed like he knew you were there but was avoiding looking at you.

The door opened and a sliver of fluorescent light from inside made you squint when it shined in your face. A large man with a beard said something to the man you’d been following in a low voice, then held the door open for him to pass through. He looked over to you and you froze.

“Hurry up.”

Your feet moved so fast, you almost tripped over them while making a quick dash for the door. You subconsciously held your breath as you passed by him with your back against the door frame, letting it go as he shut the door and motioned for you to go down the stairs. The sound of voices carried up the empty stairwell. Somehow it didn’t matter who’s they were, anything to get away from the eerie silence that’d been surrounding you for far too long by now. You took the first few steps quickly then slowed down, carefully listening to try to understand what some of the voices were saying, fragments of different conversations reaching your ears as you quietly tip toed down the last few stairs.

“Nah, man, I didn’t say that! Shut the fuck up!”

“Boss says we gotta keep the guy for now, he wants to string ‘im up downtown tomorrow.”

“Psh, you think I’mma pass that shit up? I ‘aint trading jobs with you, dumbass.”

There was a door at the bottom of the stairs. It was shut, the voices behind it carrying through the thin walls. Joker must be in there. The thought of him being behind that door sent a powerful tingle down your back and into your belly. Your heart began to race once again, your hand hovering over the doorknob as you stood in front of it, trapped between the push and pull of bodily desires clashing with your own survival instincts. Then the door suddenly opened.

Your breath hitched in your throat, your eyes traveling up the tall, purple-clad figure now standing in front of you, looking you up and down. You swore you could hear a hum coming from his chest while the corner of his mouth stretched into a crooked smile.

“ _Y/N_ , how, uh, love-ly it is to see you,” he purred.

All sense of caution dropped from your mind and you fought to pull in air while disinhibition took you over, his smell filling your nose and heat trailing up your neck. “Um. H-Hi, Joker,” you quietly replied.

Heat burned in your cheeks and along your ears while you watched his smile grow, caught in his heavy-lidded stare. His tongue flicked out over his lip before nodding his head toward a desk against the far wall and turning for you to follow. The place looked like some sort of improvised lounge. There were a few moth-eaten couches and chairs with dated upholstery as well as a hodgepodge of tables and chairs scattered throughout the large room. An old pool table stood in the corner nearby, beside two dart boards that looked like something much larger than a dart had been hurled at them on more than one occasion. The ceiling was fairly low, and rows of support columns ran along the center, it must be a basement. You passed groups of men crowded around tables and couches, stopping their conversations and turning to stare at you while you walked by. You found yourself following Joker a little closer when you felt their eyes on you.

Joker approached the wooden desk and pulled out a chair, gesturing for you to sit. Focusing on taking steady breaths to keep yourself calm, you carefully sat down.

“Welcome to home base, doll face,” he grinned.

You blinked at him and returned a small smile while you nodded, “Uh, well, thank you.” Your jaw tensed while you tried to snap yourself out the awkward trance you’d fallen into.

“Down to _business_ then, hm?” he asked, sitting in a big leather chair across from you and kicking up his feet to prop his heel on the desk, his ankles crossed. You noticed he was wearing a pair of checkered socks, brightly colored with purple, green, and gold, making your stomach flutter strangely. They matched the suit so well. You still didn’t understand the way it made you feel to see him wearing the suit you made, your suit.

Swallowing your wandering thoughts, you shifted your eyes to his face and nodded once more, your stomach fluttering again. “Ok.”

“Have you ever made, uh, uniforms, doll?”

Your brow furrowed with confusion and you answered, “I, um, well, what kind of uniforms?”

“Mmm well, it doesn’t matter if you have… more that you _could_ ,” he replied.

“Oh! Well, I… I could, yeah.”

He hummed and leaned back in his chair. “ _I_ need _you_ to make an offer to the police commissioner to make some uniforms. Formal uniforms. The annual policeman’s ball is coming up and what a trea-t it would be for the, uh, _commissioner_ and his district captains to wear spiffy new uniforms, wouldn’t you say?”

Your confusion only heightened but you didn’t know what else to say so you answered, “Yeah, I’d say so… I think.”

Joker let out a low chuckle and pulled a knife from his pocket to fidget with the sharp point before continuing, “That’ll get you into his office. Once you’re there, I have a, uh, very _important_ job for you, doll.”

A quiver reached deep down into your core when you eyed the knife in his hand, the tip of the blade perched on his gloved finger. Then he lifted his gaze to meet yours. He knew you saw it, he had to know. He must be doing it on purpose. To watch you squirm with need right there in front of him.

“You do?”

“Mmm, I _do_. I need you, baby doll, to go on a litt-le scavenger hunt. Get a meeting with the commissioner, then collect something from his office. A fork, a toothpick, cigarette butt, chewed gum, a tissue he hacked a loogy in, anything with the man’s, uh, _secretions_ , on it. How’s about it, hm?”

Before you could stop yourself, you asked, “Why?”

He grinned at you, the black around his eyes suddenly looking darker. “Well, that’s for, uh, _me_ to know and _you_ to find ou-t.”

Your cheeks grew hotter and you quickly nodded, “Right, I’m, um, I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize, kitten. Don’t worry, I’ll make it, uh, _worth your while_.”

The look he gave you was smoldering. For a second it felt like he wanted it almost as much as you did. One of his eyebrows twitched upwards and the corner of his mouth stretched into a crooked smirk. You swallowed and tried not to show evidence of the arousal he’d sparked on your face. But he still knew.

“Ok. I’ll do it.”

“Mmmm, _wonderfulll_ ,” he growled.

Then he dropped his heels off of the desk and told you to wait there. You nodded and tried to focus on keeping your eyes ahead, hoping to avoid catching the attention of any of the men around you. It’d been only a few minutes when you heard a couple of them talking nearby. They were talking about you.

“I dunno where she came from either, but _damn_. How’s the boss get a girl like that?”

“Probably pays her. Why else would she be fuckin’ around with him?”

The first voice chuckled and said, “What like a whore? You really think _she’d_ have trouble findin’ johns? Nah, man! I bet he makes her. That’s gotta be the only way that crazy fucker gets any.”

Your heart jumped into your throat and your belly suddenly tied itself into knots. This again? Why does everyone assume that about you? They had no idea how complicated it really was. Their insults ignited that volatile combination of fear and anger burning up inside you, but you kept your gaze forward, listening intently for the sting of their next words.

“Whoa, man! Chill with the shit talkin’ around here, you want your ass dead?”

“Psh, he can’t hear me. He only hears them voices in his head.”

The second man scoffed, “You’re such a dumbass, well I ‘aint goin’ down with ya.”

“Fuckin’ coward. And I ‘aint goin’ down for this! Unless its goin’ down on _her_.”

The both of them laughed loudly and by then your hands were shaking. You wanted to do something, but what could you do? You were almost dizzy from the rushing of blood in your ears, your cheeks even hotter than they were before. You tried to think of what you could do, what you could say. But you remained still, your fists so tight it felt like your nails might draw blood.

Then the door ahead of you opened and Joker’s painted face caught your attention. His expression had changed. His haughty smirk was gone, leaving him looking as expressive as stone. He peered out from behind his heavy eyelids, his thoughts and intentions obscured by layers of dark black. It tugged at the twisted knots in your stomach. It always seemed there was more going on behind those eyes than anyone could see.

“Rizzo! Gates! Come over here, won’t you?” he called out on his way to the desk.

A twinge of anxiety prickled at the back of your neck and two men approached from behind you. It was them, the ones that were talking about you. It had to be. Did he hear them? How could he have heard them? One of them was wearing a camouflage jacket and had brown hair that touched his shoulders. The other had a buzz cut and an obnoxiously large silver chain hanging around his neck. You knew it was him, you recognized his voice, the one who said he wanted to...

“Yeah, boss?”

Joker sank into his chair, his shoes flat on the floor, and replied, “Rizz, I don’t be-lieve you’ve had the, ah, _pleasure_ of meeting my friend here, Y/N, have you?”

The man with the buzz cut shifted his gaze toward you then quickly back to Joker and you saw his breathing start to become faster, shallower. “Uh, no, boss.”

“Ah! What a shame. See, _I_ thought maybe you knew her. Now why would I think that? Hm?”

Rizzo started to visibly sweat while his friend in the camouflage jacket tried to inch further away.

Joker’s eyes darted to the man failing to subtly sneak away and he said, “Gates! How ‘bout you, _hm_? Why would I think that Rizz here knows my friend, Y/N?”

Gates jumped slightly and stopped in his tracks. He couldn’t seem to look away from Joker until he finally answered, “Um… I… I dunno, boss.”

“You _don’t_?” Joker asked, feigning surprise.

He stood from his chair and shouted out into the room, “All of you, beat it!” Then he turned back to the two men and said plainly, “Not you.”

A few glances were cast in your direction as men left their poker games and beer bottles to empty the room. You could almost hear your heart beating over the resulting silence. The seconds passed painfully slowly as you waited for Joker to say something else, but he just stared at the men. His face was blank, but you could see the subtle way he was moving, stiff and erratic. Like he was exercising a great effort to hold himself back, forcing stillness in his muscles.

“Tell me, Rizzo,” he said, sitting back down in his chair. “How do you think she tastes?”

The color drained from Rizzo’s face and his mouth dropped open, but he said nothing.

Joker blinked at him and continued casually, “You seem to know her so well, so what does she tas-te like?”

Your skin had never felt so hot. Your pulse was racing, and you wished to be anywhere but here. He did hear them. What was going to happen now, you couldn’t guess, but the way he said that it sent tingles down your back. The nerve-wracked man shook his head, his mouth still open while he stared at Joker with wide eyes. Joker hummed and his lips curved into a small grin that he ran his tongue over. Then he shifted his eyes to you.

“C’mere, doll,” he purred.

The fire in his gaze was unmistakable. You wanted to leave, but at the same time, you didn’t. The way he looked at you now, it compelled you to move closer. The hold he had over those men without even doing anything yet, the hold he had over you, it made you feel something. You wanted to show them they were wrong about you. You weren’t in this for money, it was so much more selfish than that.

You slowly stood up and walked around to the other side of the desk, not taking your eyes off of him. He licked at his scars and leaned back in his chair, motioning for you to sit on his lap. Goosebumps tingled down your back and you felt yourself start to become wet as you turned to sit on his thigh. The tingles only intensified when his hand rested against the small of your back.

“You don’t know, hm?” Joker asked, turning back to Rizzo. “So, you don’t know her that well, do you?”

Then suddenly Joker pulled you closer, holding you against him with his arm across your chest before pulling the chair up to the desk so that you were pinned between him and the wooden tabletop. It felt like you were in some kind of dream. Like this wasn’t real.

“Ya know what they say about, uh, _assuming_ , right?”

You took a sharp breath in when you felt the cool leather of Joker’s glove on your thigh, sliding up your skirt. The two stunned men standing in front of you both started to quickly back up before being stopped in their tracks by the sound of a click coming from beside you.

“Ahh ta ta, I never said you could leave, did I? Or was that the, ah, _voices in my head_?” Joker growled.

He propped his wrist on the desk, pointing the barrel of a handgun at Rizzo and Gates. A mixture of dread and arousal made you dizzy, racking your brain until you started to push and pull against his grip.

The rumble of his voice in your ear sent a jolt of electricity down your back, “Mmm-mm, nooo little bunny, you’re not going anywhere either. _Coming_ , however…”

His hand on your thigh then slid between your legs, his fingertips suddenly grazing your pussy as he moved your panties to the side. Your jaw dropped and you gasped, your hands gripping the fabric of your skirt, unable to move. The two men across from you quickly averted their stares, trying to look away, fighting to tear their eyes away from the gun aimed at them.

Joker whistled at them and said, “Noo no no, eyes over here, hm? You don’t wanna miss the, ah, _show_ , do you?” Then he leaned in and murmured to you, “But they don’t get to see all of it, noo, that cute little pussy is for _my_ eyes on-ly.”

Hidden from view by the desk, he swiftly hooked his thumb in the waistband of your panties and pulled them down to your knees. Before you could say or do anything, he slipped two gloved fingers inside you. A groan escaped your mouth, your cheeks on fire, while he gave you only a moment to stretch to accommodate his fingers. Then he started to steadily move them in and out, curling them against your walls as he went. You couldn’t stop the sounds that were coming out of you, your throat wouldn’t let you hold back the groans and whines that tumbled out.

Joker hummed and put his chin on your shoulder, his nose nuzzling against your neck. With his breath hot and humid on your skin, he purred, “Thaaat’s it, doll. Show ‘em how good it feels, hm? Show ‘em what I do to you.”

The heat of embarrassment was almost unbearable. You wanted to disappear, to drop down through the floor beneath you, but he had you hooked. The feeling of his fingers inside you, finally filling that desperate desire that had been consuming you, that heat was stronger. In a matter of seconds, he had you ready to unravel right in front of two strangers. He was claiming you, showing them how easily he could get you off. Because of what they said. This fact sent an unexpected tingle through your core and you whined loudly when his thumb made contact with your clit.

“Mmmm yes, louder, baby girl. Let ‘em hear you.”

Then he latched his mouth onto your neck to nip and lick at your skin. His wet tongue on your neck and the leather of his glove rubbing circles on your clit sent your head into the clouds. You almost forgot you were being watched. But you opened your eyes to see the men still standing there, breathing heavily while they watched Joker pleasure you. They looked terrified. They look confused. They looked like they _wanted_ to watch, not just because they were held there at gunpoint. Because of you. Because of how your body reacted to his touch. You suddenly felt a new sort of thrill stiffen all of your muscles. You wanted them to watch. You wanted them to see just how good he made you feel. You opened your mouth let your hums grow into noisy moans while you tossed your head back against Joker’s shoulder, pressure in your core growing stronger.

“ _That’s_ what I like to hear!” he shouted. Then he craned his neck to bring his lips to your ear, pumping his fingers in and out at a faster pace. “I know you wore this for _me_ , doll. I like it, it accen-tuates you’re, uh, _best feature_. Easy access too,” he chuckled.

He grunted and pushed his fingers into your pussy as deep as he could, making quick and erratic circles with your now throbbing clit. You were a moaning and panting mess, heavy breaths heaving in your chest and your fingernails digging into his thighs while he made sure the two men were still watching with a heavy-lidded gaze. Then he shifted you in his lap, leaving a wet spot on the fabric before you felt his hard cock straining against his pants beneath you. You were so close.

“You feel what you do to me, doll?” he purred in your ear.

That was all it took to push you over the edge. Every muscle in your core tightened around his fingers and you cried out toward the ceiling, arching your back against his chest and gripping your skirt in your fists. He held his fingers inside you and vigorously rubbed against your sensitive bud, a deep rumble in his throat while you rode out your earth-shattering climax. It felt like you’d been blinded by a bright light, stunned by an electric shock, your body trying to reclaim rushing blood to reach your brain and bring you back to life. Then you felt his shoulder beneath your head and opened your eyes. His fingers slid out of you, eliciting a groan as you came to and tried to catch your breath.

Joker locked eyes with the red-faced men still standing there but looking weak in the knees and lifted one of his fingers to his mouth to stick out his tongue and lewdly lick your orgasm off of the leather.

“She tastes just as _sweet_ as honey, fellas,” he growled.

Next thing you knew, your ears were ringing, and you saw the two men screaming from the floor, blood pouring from their groins onto the concrete. The muffled sounds of their agony grew clearer as it felt like cotton was pulled from your ears and your eyes widened. You had yet to fully process the shock of what you’d seen when Joker stood up, taking you with him.

Your legs buckled and he swiftly picked you up to carry you over his shoulder up several flights of stairs. He stopped outside the door at the top and propped you up against the wall to slam his lips into yours. Your hands reached up to tangle your fingers in his hair while you opened your mouth to let him in.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew!!  
> Alright things got spicy, things got violent, comments always welcome so let me know what your think I'd really love to hear it!! 💖💖💖


	10. Part Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo!! 💖  
> I'm back with part nine!!! I hope you all are doing well and are healthy! I've been so busy at work as usual but I'm super excited for the plot development in this chapter, guys! Also J is just a charming bastard ajaskajdnmskjd!!   
> AND this chapter STARTS OFF NSFW!! 🔥🔥🔥🔥
> 
> We're picking up where we left off! Were we goooo!
> 
> Warnings: dirty talk, edging, risk of falling/heights, rough sex

Your fingers curled to grip his green locks tightly in your fists, your back pushed hard against the cold concrete wall while he devoured your mouth with insatiable ferocity. His hands slid down your sides then over your ass to pull your hips into his, a growl coming from his chest as you felt his hardened length press against your belly through his pants.

Joker suddenly freed your mouth and your oxygen-starved lungs pulled in a deep breath while he turned to the door beside you, yanking it open. Then he took your wrist in his hand and hurried you through the door. The rush of night air against your skin sent a shiver down your back, your body’s senses heightened by the adrenaline that mixed with your blood. After taking a few steps out onto the roof, he spun you around and pulled you against his chest, recapturing you and sliding his hands up your skirt. His cool leather gloves raised a wave of goosebumps up your thighs and you melted into his touch.

He stopped for a moment to bring one of his hands up to his mouth, biting down on the edge of a fingertip to pull the glove off with his teeth, then the other. You groaned and bit your bottom lip when his bare fingers pulled your panties down and lightly grazed your pussy. Your hips bucked toward his hand, your movements barely within your control as his simplest touches sent your heart racing. He hummed and brought his lips to your ear.

“Mmmm look at _you_. Someone’s, ah, _eager_.”

His teeth nipped at your ear lobe and your eyes nearly rolled back into your head. You had completely let go. It was like the past few days you’d spent wanting never happened. You were caught in his web again, drowning in the sensations that blinded you to anything that wasn’t him. He pulled your shirt over your head and the click of a switchblade had barely reached your ears when the knife cut the strap of your bra. A gasp was the only sound you could make when your hardened nipples met the air and his hand at the small of your back pulled you closer while the other lightly gripped your neck, his thumb stroking your pulse. You were at his mercy, drunk off of his taste, his smell, his hands, his mouth. But that’s exactly what you wanted. You craved this feeling of deliriousness, loss of control… submission. You wanted him to take control over you, to make you scream. He knew it too.

His breath hot on your face he purred, “ _That’s_ my girl. Now tell me, how _badly_ do you want me to fuck you, hm? How much d’you _crave_ it?”

A shiver ran down your spine and you gripped his coat in your fists while you panted and tried to find your words, but they only tangled on your tongue.

“Can’t hear you, doll,” he growled, sliding his hand down from your neck to your breast to pinch your nipple between his fingers.

“Mmm! So badly! Please! Please, I need it!”

The words flew out of your mouth then his lips grazed your ear again, “ _What_ do you need?”

“I need you to fuck me!” you shouted.

“Mmm those are the mag-ic words,” he purred before latching his mouth onto your neck, taking the skin between his teeth.

You sucked in a gasp and you felt his hand move to cup your breast, his thumb sliding over your nipple. Having his hands on you felt incredibly fulfilling. His callused fingers gliding over the soft skin of your tits. The more he touched you, the more you wanted and the more you got, the more you felt yourself melt for him. He seemed to like that, when you melted for him, so ready to feel him everywhere. Soon goosebumps rose up across your chest when his warmth moved away, allowing the cool air to reach your skin. You opened your eyes to see him hiking your skirt up to your hips and pulling your panties down before lifting you to sit on the cement ledge behind you. Then his large palms parted your legs and his face dove between them.

You tossed your head back and moaned while his tongue circled and flicked your clit, an intense pressure already forming in your core. Your noises grew louder, and your fists pulled on his hair when he hummed against you. His mouth pushed your mind further away from your body, jolts of pleasure making you squirm while his fingers dug into your thighs to keep you still. You were soon close to your release, tightening your hold on his hair, when he stopped.

Everything was very still for a moment. You breathed heavily and blinked your eyes open. Then you were suddenly pulled forward so that your pelvis hung over the edge toward him and your shoulders dipped backward, his grip tight on you. He watched you with an avid look on his face, his chest heavily rising and falling. Your breath caught in your throat when you felt his cock brush up against your inner thigh. His hand slid down below the small of your back to hold you there while his other arm wrapped around your shoulders. His eyes captured yours as he braced you against his hold and suddenly thrusted into you.

A groan came from your open mouth, surrendering to your lascivious needs, until you realized that he was now the only thing keeping you from falling over the edge of the building. Your heart leapt out of your chest and your hands flew up to grab hold of his shoulders in a panic. But he remained perfectly still, watching you realize the danger you may be in from behind his dark and heavy eyelids. His grasp was strong, but your position on the wall was precarious. He hummed and pulled you a little closer, pushing himself deeper inside you. You bit your lip, trying to stifle the whine that escaped past it, and searched his face for some kind of reassurance. Anything that told you he wasn’t going to let you fall. His gaze held you there, almost as firmly as his hands, while the tingles in your back reminded you that there was nothing behind it. Then he smirked and held you tight as he gradually began to thrust.

You wrapped your legs around him and gasped. There it was. Fear mingling with pleasure. You felt every inch of him inside you as he stretched you, your senses on high alert. He could drop you, whether it was on purpose or not.

“Joker… I… I could fall,” you stammered, taking deep breaths and gripping his shoulders, trying to fight the increasing arousal that was quickly overshadowing your ability to reason.

He didn’t stop. He only continued to roll his hips then said, “Mmm you _could_ , couldn’t you?”

Then he suddenly thrusted into you harder, deeper, holding it there and forcing out a moan while he squeezed you tighter. “Don’t worry, doll. I won’t drop ya,” he purred into your ear.

A wave of heat traveled down your neck and to your core, compelling you to buck your hips toward him. Then you looked at his eyes. You always looked there, trying to see something. Maybe because they were the only thing he couldn’t hide. He can’t dye them green, paint over them, or layer them in a suit. But they still didn’t tell you anything. They stared back at you, like he could see through you, defiant to any display of emotion. But this time, you did notice something. You saw a serene self-assuredness. The persona of extreme arrogance. He carried himself with bold determination, daring anyone to get in his way, just to show them how easily he can win. You always let him win. He got what he wanted from you – you wanting him. And you gave that to him without hesitation. But you loved giving yourself to him, letting him see how much you wanted to. The recklessness, it made you feel something so powerful.

You curled your lip between your teeth, then took deep breaths while you loosened your hold on his shoulders, leaning back to give him more room to move. His grin widened and he slowly lowered you down onto your back, your shoulders resting on the edge of the wall. You kept your legs wrapped around his waist tightly, not willing to let him hold your weight completely. Your heart raced when you felt nothing beneath your head, and you tried to hold it up while his hands slid down your sides to hold you by your waist. Your breaths were heavy, your bare chest rising and falling while he gazed at you. Then, your pelvis still connected to his, he rocked his hips forward, pushing right against your sensitive spot.

Joker hummed and did it again when you whined and grabbed on to his wrists. Another long, slow thrust. Then another. His fingers pressed hard into the flesh at your waist, his hold on you firm and steady. You panted and groaned, your fear not quite overtaken by your pleasure. They mixed together, feeding off of each other, each daring the other to raise the intensity. The more you released your own grip on him, the more you felt it. He growled and began to thrust harder when you let go of his wrists and allowed your head drop back, letting your gasps and moans pass freely out of your mouth.

An inverted view of the city skyline, twinkling with distant lights, met your eyes as you opened them. The sudden rush of the thrill of it took your breath away. You felt everything, every bit of pressure, every touch, every ounce of satisfying friction, all getting faster, harder. His bruising hold on you was the only thing keeping you from being thrusted over the ledge when you let your legs relax around his waist and he continued to pound into you. With each drive of his hips against you, you let yourself bask in it more, until your fingers clawed at the flat concrete surface and you cried out toward the sky. Your head hung out in the open air, gravity’s pull toward the ground clouding your mind when your release crashed over you like a tidal wave. You never felt it coming, it erupted from your core and stiffened your body as endorphins ran rampant along your frazzled nerves. Then the sky suddenly spun over your head as you felt yourself being pulled up by your arms and the next thing you saw when you blinked your eyes was his face.

He grinned at you and said, “If I dropped ya, who would I fuck, _hm_?”

You didn’t spend much longer on the roof. Before leading you down the stairs, he raised his eyebrows at your ruined bra then grabbed your shirt for you to cover yourself. You were still coming down from your peak as you followed him down the stairs, watching his purple coat sway with his steps. Then the realization of what you’d done slowly dawned on you. The trust you just put in him. You trusted him not to drop you and he didn’t. He didn’t and the thrill you got out of it hit you like a drug. He turned to look over his shoulder and caught you smiling to yourself.

“Mmm looks like your, uh, system reboot is almost finished. Are ya with me, sweet cheeks?”

You blinked and shook your head a little, your cheeks growing warm with a little embarrassment. “I, um… yeah. I guess blood rushed to my head.”

Suddenly, at the bottom of the stairs, he twirled you around to back you up against the wall, leaning on his hand propped beside you.

“Ohh I know _exactly_ where blood rushed,” he chuckled, leaning in toward you as he spoke. “Ya know… you’ve been just a, ah, _de-light_ this evening.”

Butterflies twisted in your stomach and your cheeks burned hotter. Those simple worlds were having a surprising effect on you. The smallest praise triggered something in your mind that made you want to submit even more. The idea that you did well, that he actually got pleasure out of this too almost made your head feel like you were upside down again. It was a dangerous thing to feel, the need for more.

“I have?” you asked quietly.

His smile stretched his scars even further up his cheeks and he leaned in closer to purr in your ear, “Mmmm that’s right, doll. You’re gettin’ good at this.”

The warm tickle of his breath beside your ear triggered a cascade of goosebumps across your skin, down your back. He consumed you, breathed you in, getting high off of the luscious hormones that flowed off of you, that still flooded your body. Every time the fog began to clear, he always pulled you back under, his lips on your skin while you surrendered to the inebriation that welcomed you back with open arms. His hand slid over your breast, feeling you through the thin fabric of your shirt. His lips brushed over your pulse, almost blood thirsty. How much further were you willing to go?

Then he stepped away, taking the fog with him, that beguiling haze that never failed to provoke your most shameless impulses once it seeped into senses. It smelled like gasoline. Another door at the bottom of the stairwell opened and he held it for you. It led to a small access road behind the building, where little light could barely reach to cast a shadow.

There was a sleek black car waiting just past the doorway, red brake lights glowing brightly in the dark. You looked to Joker, still holding the door, and he gestured toward the car. “ _That_ car will pick you up again tomorrow morning. Eight o’clock.”

You managed to pull yourself out of your daze, back to reality, or maybe this was all a dream, and you nodded. Blind trust. Before you moved to step out into the dark, Joker’s hand took hold of your chin and turned your face toward him to catch you by your lips. You felt yourself falling into that thick fog, his mouth drawing you in, the taste of greasepaint on your tongue.

You took a breath when he gradually released you, licking your lingering flavor from his lips. Then his hand dropped from your chin and he nodded toward the waiting car. Pulling air into your lungs, you turned to walk through the door, feeling his eyes on your back as you approached the car. You paused and looked back over your shoulder after you opened the car door. His black rimmed eyes glinted at you, his red lips closing around a cigarette, and he disappeared behind the closing door.

_______________

You didn’t speak to the man driving the car at all. But he knew where to take you. He never looked at you, keeping his eyes on the road. You wondered if it already had anything to do with the men Joker left to bled out from their groins on the floor of that room. It happened so fast, but you hadn’t forgotten. You’d never seen something so violent, however quickly it passed before your eyes. You should feel something, right? Something powerful? Disgust? Shock? Something? All you could feel was the dull throbbing between your legs. Only blind trust.

Surprisingly, sleep came easily to you. Your head hit your pillow and it was like none of it happened. But your dreams reminded you that it did. Blood flooded the floor, you couldn’t keep yourself from stepping in it. It was thick, sticky, and warm. You watched him walk steadily toward you, the red liquid splashing beneath his shoes and saturating the bottom of his pants. He didn’t say anything yet, he just lifted your chin to look at you. The corner of his mouth twitched before he stuck out his tongue to lick along your lower lip and he leaned in to murmur in your ear, “Now we’ll show ‘em what you do to _me_.”

Your eyes opened and your window came into focus, soft morning light filtering in through the blinds. You blinked and started to move your limbs, half expecting to feel tacky dried blood. But your skin glided smoothly between your sheets. Dreams are supposed to be a window into your subconscious, aren’t they?

Sitting up in bed, you stopped as a feeling of unease poked at you for attention, like you’d forgotten something. Your dreamy daze was taking its time to release it’s hold on you. Then it dawned on you. Eight o’clock. Joker said the car would pick you up at eight o’clock. You quickly sprung from your bed, wildly looking for your alarm clock, pulling back the sheets and moving your pillows. After finding it on the floor, you sighed with relief when its glowing red numbers read “7:08”.

Thoughts of what happened last night instantly dissolved and a little prickle of anxiety followed you closely while you got ready. You couldn’t get yourself to eat breakfast. You weren’t sure what was in store for you today, but it more than likely involved that little favor you’d agreed to. It was unnerving, to say the least, to go into the police commissioner’s office to find… saliva? Dwelling on it wasn’t doing you any good but, you couldn’t help it. What if you got caught? How would you explain yourself? _Oh, the Joker asked me to get this for him._ Sure, that’ll go over great. But you couldn’t say no. You didn’t even want to say no. An enchanting feeling swelled in your chest whenever he flashed that insidious smile and gifted you a delicious drop of his honeyed praise. It was only getting stronger, more alluring. You craved it now.

Your thoughts carried you down the stairs and out of the front door of your building. It was almost eight o’clock. Funny how normal everything feels once you’re still. Taxis and busses rolled past, carrying normal people, off to toil through their normal day. But for all you knew, they could have an equally strange secret to hide. They certainly couldn’t know what you were up to, standing there waiting on the sidewalk. Unlikely. This still didn’t feel real to you. You’d almost forgotten how this all happened in the first place by now. It made you feel an unusual sense of delight. The thrill of your nefarious dealings with a man who was undoubtedly after something big wasn’t even close to wearing off.

Then the sight of the black car from last night made your heart pump faster while it pulled up to the curb in front of you and stopped. It was like you’d forgotten how to get into a car. You stood there for a moment until the passenger window rolled down and the man who’d driven you last night raised his brow at you. Your brain seemed to switch back on, and you yanked the door handle to climb into the back seat. Your quietly muttered apology was met with silence as the car continued on down the street.

You tried to control your ever-increasing level of anxiety as the passing buildings grew taller, metal and glass goliaths towering toward the sky. They made you feel so small. Downtown looked more intimidating than ever. Wait… downtown? You were supposed to see the commissioner _now_? Your head, heavy with swimming thoughts, dropped back against the head rest when you slouched back in the seat.

“Commissioner’s office is on the fifth floor. Go there. Your meetin’ with him starts at eight thirty. Boss set it all up.”

The unexpected deep voice coming from the front seat startled you and you quickly sat up before he silently handed you a small plastic bag. “Did… he say anything else?”

The man’s eyes shifted to the rearview mirror to look at you and he answered plainly, “Said you’d know what to do.”

Before you could ask anything more, the car stopped in front of City Hall and he unlocked the doors before nodding toward the looming building. Even if your muddled brain could come up with anymore questions, they would undoubtedly go unanswered. You opened the door and made yourself step out on the concrete, looking up at the columns lining the entrance. Still staring at the vertigo-inducing architecture, you shut the door and the driver rolled down the passenger window.

“Fifth floor,” he said from behind you.

You spun around, opening your mouth to ask him what you should do after that, but the car was already pulling away. You almost called out to him but didn’t want to attract attention to yourself and swallowed your question before turning back toward City Hall. Your heart jumped into your throat when the realization that this was really happening hit you and you quickly reached for your burner phone to check the time. “8:24”.

It’s now or never. What do you have to lose? Not enough to stop you, apparently. You slipped the plastic bag into your pocket and wasted no time striding up the large stone steps, keeping your eyes on the ground as you passed the Grecian columns that made it feel more like you were preparing to meet Zeus himself. Strangely, it made you feel a bit better to remember that you weren’t. You can do this. You’ve spent so many hours tending to Gotham’s elite, this should be a walk in the park. Just flatter him, talk up the new shipment of tight weave luxury cotton you got in. You kept yourself calm as you passed through a set of metal detectors, avoiding making eye contact with the security guard, and entered the elevator to hit the button for the fifth floor. Then your thoughts inevitably turned to the reason you were here in the first place, sending your heart into your throat once again. How were you going to get this sample that Joker wanted? Raid his trash can? That would more than certainly arise suspicion.

Before you could dwell on it any longer, the elevator doors opened, and your feet carried you out into a hallway with a shiny tile floor inlaid with the Gotham City emblem. People walked quickly past you, clearly with more direction and focus than you could muster as you tried desperately to come up with any sort of plan with what precious minutes you had left before your meeting. You kept moving forward, it was all happening so fast but almost in slow motion too, as if you were dreaming.

“Do you have an appointment?” a voice in front of you asked.

The voice cut through your day dream like shards of glass, tearing away the heavy curtain over your eyes and you stammered to answer, “I, um, I think so.”

The man at the desk in front of you blinked at you, waiting for you to say something else before asking, “Your name?”

“Oh! Right, sorry. Y/N… Eight thirty, um, meeting with the commissioner.”

If someone asked you how you’d gotten from the sidewalk to where you stood right now, you wouldn’t have been able to tell them. There was too much going on in your head, in your body, racing thoughts and a racing pulse.

“Ok, Y/N, wait here just a moment and the commissioner will be right with you,” the man replied.

You nodded and began nervously fiddle with your sleeve when he turned to walk toward the back of the office. You scanned the room, searching for anything that might spark some sort of plan. The office was pristine. Gotham’s city flag hung from a stand in the corner, surrounded by framed photographs and certificates on the wall, giving off an air of pageantry and self-importance. The desk in front of you was clean, with only a computer on it that faced away from you. The man had disappeared through the door behind it and soon you could hear muffled voices before it opened.

“Y/N, thank you for coming by on such short notice,” a tall man in a nice suit stated, extending his hand out for you to shake.

You took his hand and answered quickly, “Um, yes, it’s my pleasure, commissioner. Thank you for meeting with me.”

His hand was so large, his palm overtaking your and fingers closing around your hand. You’d never seen what the police commissioner looked like before or even what his job entailed, much less know how you should talk to him. He nodded and waved you into his office to follow him, the door closing behind you by his assistant. Maybe you should just talk to him like any other customer.

“We’re still ironing out the details, but this year’s ball is going to benefit the Bruce Wayne foundation. I assume you may already know this?” he asked you, turning around to face you before leaning against his desk.

“Uh, yes! I did. I, um, have worked with Mr. Wayne before.”

Of course, you had no idea about that but of all times to blow your cover, you didn’t want it to be the very start of the meeting. He gestured for you to sit before moving around to the other side of his desk to lower himself into the cushioned leather chair.

“Well, I’d like to thank you for your offer. Its very generous of you to donate your time and your skillset. Our appearance for events like this is certainly important and something we take pride in. Did you have anything specific in mind?”

You tried to keep your eyes on him instead of letting them wander around the room. It was so difficult to focus on what he was saying. All you wanted was what you came there for… what Joker asked you for.

“Appearance is my specialty,” you stated, finding your voice. “Um. I, well, I was hoping to get some guidance on that.”

You managed to think on your feet, despite the tight hold your nerves still had over you. The commissioner took the bait and replied, “I’m sure we can work with you on that.”

Then you noticed something, and your stomach did a flip. He used a handkerchief to quickly dab sweat from his forehead. Keeping your focus, you discussed some ideas as well as a date and time for taking measurements, but it felt like there was a clock that was watching you, relentlessly ticking, minutes passing by, time running out. You had to do something.

“You know, commissioner, I was wondering if you happen to have an example of the formal uniforms you currently use?”

You had to keep yourself from jumping out of your seat when it actually worked, and he excused himself to speak with his assistant to obtain one for you. You weren’t sure how much time you had. Your heart pounded as you took the plastic bag from your pocket and pulled it over your hand to snatch the small square of fabric left on the desk, sealing the bag and stuffing it back in your pocket. Attempting to act casual, you sat down and tried to catch your breath until the unsettling feeling that you were likely to get caught came over you. You couldn’t put it back, you needed it. What else would you bring back to Joker? Panic burned in your chest and you stood back up to see if you could find a replacement, looking frantically around on his desk while trying not to disturb anything. Then you heard voices. The door opened just after you practically threw yourself into your chair and the commissioner entered the office with a dress uniform jacket on a hanger.

“This is the most recent design. Feel free to take it with you,” he said, walking around the desk and handing it to you.

“Thank you, commissioner.”

Then he wrinkled his forehead and reached for where he’d left the handkerchief. You froze, holding your breath while he looked around the desk for a moment before patting his pockets. A weight was lifted off of your chest when he pulled another handkerchief from his jacket and used it. It was difficult not to smile as you fought the urge to get up and run out of the office with your unusual contraband.

“Well, I think that’s all the time I have today, miss Y/N. Again, I do appreciate you coming by,” he said, pocketing the handkerchief.

You let your smile appear and replied, “It was my pleasure, commissioner.”

It felt like you could walk on air when you stepped back into the hallway. You’d done it and it brought a whole new thrill along with it. You couldn’t guess what this item was for, but you didn’t really care. It was yours now. It was your ticket to fulfil your self-indulgent need for his dulcet and bewitching approval. It was proof of how far you were willing to go, the things you’d do. You’d gone this far, but you still couldn’t see the bottom of that rabbit hole. Taking steady steps back into the elevator, your thoughts cleared enough for you to remember that you never found out where you were supposed to go now.

The elevator doors opened onto the first floor and you wandered out into the atrium where you suddenly saw a face you recognized. It took a moment of watching him, but you knew who he was. Harvey Dent was walking quickly in your direction, passing by you to catch the elevator before the door closed. There likely wasn’t a person in Gotham that wouldn’t recognize him. His campaign for District Attorney resulted in his face being plastered just about everywhere. Leave it to Gotham for any average citizen to actually know or care about what the DA does.

You sighed and decided to stay put and wait there, what else could you do? You sat on a stone bench near the wall with the jacket on your lap and watched the crowd go by, your gaze growing more distant with the passing minutes. The inevitable tingle down your back made you shiver when your mind wandered where it always did lately. What he did to you was almost always lingering somewhere in your thoughts. More and more often, you let it. You let your thoughts focus on him. It seemed like it all happened so fast, you didn’t even recognize how much you had let him turn your life upside down. You weren’t even sure when you last opened the shop for business. There was no doubt that it wasn’t the right thing to be doing at all, following through on this deal you’d made, but you didn’t care to fight it. If that made you selfish, so be it.

In the corner of your eye, you saw a thin man that looked somewhat familiar come sit down next to you on the bench. A little burst of butterflies churned your stomach, but you slowly turned your head to look at him. He kept his eyes ahead, but it was obvious he was talking to you.

“I’m gonna get up in two minutes. When I do, wait thirty seconds, then check the time and follow me. Not too close.”

You looked out in front of you, trying to mimic his subtlety. “Ok… is he here?” you asked, shifting your eyes back toward him.

He didn’t answer you. He just checked his watch and gazed straight ahead. You moved your eyes away and swallowed thickly, your mouth growing dry while you nervously waited. Both of you sat in silence on the bench for what felt like an eternity, staring out over the bustling entryway. You stopped yourself from jumping up when he casually stood and started to walk away. An anxious pang in your chest quickened your breathing as you tried to steadily count to thirty, watching him intently, before moving your sleeve to check a watch you weren’t wearing and standing up, carrying the uniform jacket over your arm. After scanning the crowd in a near panic, you saw him. Keeping a reasonable distance behind him, you followed.

He never answered you, about whether Joker was here. But he had to be. Where else would this guy be taking you? A thought occurred to you that he might not be one of Joker’s men, but who else would he be? Questions continued to cycle through your head until you turned down a hall that suddenly had no other people. Your steps echoed off of the walls as you followed the man down another hall, where the shined floors gradually became scuffed and the smooth stone walls changed to white cinderblock. It looked like some kind of a maintenance access hall. He turned to you and waved for you to follow him closer now. You hurried to keep up close behind as he swiped a badge in the card reader next to a door and flung it open when the little light turned from red to green. Pipes lined the ceiling of the next room, the smell of oil and mildew in the air. Ladders were leaned against a wall and some of the pipes made soft hissing sounds. You followed to the other end of the room where the man pulled hard on the gate of an old elevator to force it open.

When he turned to see you watching, he pointed into the elevator car and said, “Hurry up.”

Your eyes widened and you hesitated. He wanted you to go into that thing? Did it even work? You looked up and down at the rusted metal and dusty controls. The same thought occurred that was becoming common for you by now. Well, you’ve made it this far. The floor of the elevator groaned as your feet carefully stepped inside, and the gate screeched closed behind you. He pressed a button on a panel, and you jumped when the contraption came to life with a loud clang before starting to steadily rise up, the dim light in the room disappearing below your feet.

You kept a tight grip on the rail running along the wall, your arms trembling until the dark elevator shaft came to a rickety stop and a set of doors opened. Daylight stung your eyes and you squinted, bringing your hand up to shield your face. Without a second thought, you rushed out past the doors and into the light. When you blinked the spots out of your vision, a familiar red smile greeted you.

“Ahhh _there_ she is! Hellooo, doll,” Joker purred.

Your heart jumped into your throat and you froze with eyes wide open, focused on him as he strolled toward you.

His voice dropped low as he captured you in his gaze and asked, “D’you have a little pre-sent for me?”

You couldn’t keep your hand from shaking as you reached into your pocket. What if this wasn’t good enough? Did he need something better? Self-doubt didn’t rear its ugly head until you were here standing in front of him. Too late now. You pulled the plastic bag containing the handkerchief from your pocket and showed it to him. He looked down at it and a devilish smile crept onto his face, setting off a rush of butterflies in your belly.

“Did you touch it?” he asked.

When you shook your head, his grin grew wider. “ _Excellent_.”

Your body tingled all over and that friendly warmth you knew so well heated up your cheeks and neck before he motioned for you to follow him. There was a group of men up on the roof with him. They were standing around a bulky object covered in black plastic. Wait, why were you up here?

Joker pulled the plastic off and you yelped when you saw what looked like a dead Batman. It was the body of a man, but he didn’t look like batman, he was just dressed like him. The lower half of his face was smeared with the same paint Joker wore, a red smile painted over his stiffened mouth. Once the initial shock faded, the smell reached your nose. You held back the gag that tugged at your throat and Joker took the small bag from your hands. Then he silently crouched down beside the body and took another bag from his pocket.

He cleaned his gloves with something then took what looked like a small piece of paper out of the other bag. You strained to look closer, without getting too close to the body. It was a Joker card. After holding out carefully, he lowered it into the bag with the handkerchief, swiping its surface over the fabric. A chuckled rumbled in his chest as he stuck a pin through the card and attached it to the vest on the body. Your expression twisted with confusion and he simply grinned at you.

“WILL THE REAL BATMAN PLEASE STAND UP?” had been typed on the card’s surface.

You sucked in a breath, your mind running in circles. What does that mean? Bits of what you’d overheard at the mob meeting echoed in your ears. _Kill the Batman_.

The men moved quickly to secure a rope tied into a noose around the body’s neck and you took several steps back, your blood rushing even faster when you watched them heave the body over the side of the building.

“Let the games begin,” Joker grinned.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THAT'S RIGHT J, LET THOSE GAMES BEGIN
> 
> Woooo! Yayyy I'm so happy to post this! Comments welcome as usual, let me know what you think! 💕


	11. Part Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yayyyy part ten!! I’m so excited to be updating this story, it feels like its been way too long and I've missed it!! Lots of character development in this one... and then we get filthy with some more nsfw content ✨   
> Please read the warnings below and do not interact with this story if you are a minor! 
> 
> Comments always welcome and appreciated ❤️
> 
> Warnings: angst, manipulation, panic attack, crisis of conscience, mentions of violence/murder, smut, nsfw, fellatio, hair pulling, gun play, knife play, rough sex... I don’t think I’ve left anything out akdkahsgsg

“Take 14th. Clinton’s blocked. Cops are movin’ fast.”

The voice crackling over a radio Joker held in his hand was muffled by the sound of sirens on the other end while the car sped down a side street. You lost your grip on the seat in front of you and slammed against the door as the driver swung the car around a corner. Rubbing your shoulder and wincing, you turned to look out the rear window. A sigh of relief felt strange when you didn’t see any flashing lights following you. Shouldn’t you be hoping to get caught? Hoping that a line of cop cars will be waiting for you after the next turn, arresting all of you before this went any further than it had already? By this point, you were certain you’d be arrested along with him if he were caught. But you really didn’t want that. You didn’t want this to stop. All of it was so far from your control but all you wanted was to feel more of that tantalizing power he held over you, it coaxed out every filthy need you didn’t know you had, and you surrendered to it so easily. You surrendered to him so easily.

Once the buildings started to change from tall, shiny skyscrapers to dingy, cramped apartments and warehouses, the car’s speed slowed. It was then that your mind had a chance to catch up to what just happened...

“Um… so… what just happened?” you asked quietly, your voice only marginally louder than the sound of the tires on the asphalt.

Joker’s tongue flicked out over his lip and, keeping his gaze out toward the windshield, he answered, “What just _happened_ was the ti-ck of only the first to fall in a looong line of, uh, _well placed_ dominos.”

The car fell silent as you continued to stare at the side of his face. You remembered back when he first tried on the suit. You had this feeling... like some formidable force was standing next to you. Then, as if your last traces of humanity were reaching out to you from the depths of your mind, visions of the men laying on that floor in a pool of their own blood and the body you just saw being carelessly thrown over the side of a building flashed over your eyes. Your throat tightened and your eyes grew wide as your heart raced and you tried to stay calm. But that was becoming difficult. It wouldn’t stop, the torrent of violent images, the guilt. It was your fault. He shot those men because of you. And the phony Batman? You helped him carry out whatever reason that man died for. You didn’t even hesitate. Shouldn’t you have known people were going to die?

Your breathing grew faster, and pressure began to build in your forehead. It was all suddenly so real. You’d been so blind to the big picture. After so many times you’d been a fly on the wall, seeing, hearing, even getting mixed up with the Mob, all you could sense was him. His eyes held your gaze, his voice rumbled in your ears, his scent clouded your mind and his touch left you starving for more. Men have died. And it was still all you wanted.

Joker shifted his eyes towards you as your huffs of breath reached his ears. His eyebrow raised while he watched you and you sensed his gaze. Your face burned as you tried to hold back the tears welling up in your eyes. It was all crashing over you at once. Everything since he walked into your shop and cast his spell on you.

You jumped when you felt his gloved hand on your chin, and he turned your face toward his, holding you there. His tongue ran over his lip as he studied your expression, like he was looking for something. He blinked his heavy eyelids as he held you there, silently watching you and waiting. He must have known what was going through your head. He’s been waiting for this. He watched you as it all passed by behind your eyes, tangled with your emotions, scratched and clawed at your conscience. Your brow furrowed as the pressure continued to build, your eyes stung and burned with everything you were feeling, trapped in your head, looking for a way out. Something inside you wanted to give in. But you’d already given so much, what more was left?

Tears finally began to flow from your eyes, down your face, collecting where his hand held your chin. If what he wanted was to see was you finally snap under all of this pressure, so be it. Your hands trembled and shook in your lap, curling into tight fists while you let it all go. Your tears prickled on your face, heated with a mixture of anxiety and embarrassment as you squeezed your eyes shut and choked on your fitful breaths. Why were you crying? You didn’t want him to see you cry. But it was like a vail had been lifted from your eyes and you were finally able to see what you’ve done, what you’ve been doing. You were a part of something big, lured in, tempted and trapped.

Your vision was blurred when your eyes opened. His expression hadn’t changed as he watched your face, twisted and streaked with your hot tears that just kept coming. He didn’t revel in it, didn’t show any sign that he took pleasure in your pain. But how could you know he didn’t? Why else would he be watching you like this? You swallowed to avoid gagging on your tears and took a deep breath before letting your gaze meet his again. It was like he was just waiting for you to be finished. He patiently watched you become overwhelmed by your realization, then let it pass. He looked at you like the way you felt was something familiar but long forgotten to him, a nuisance if anything. Your crisis of conscience was merely something he was expecting to happen before you could move on and continue to do exactly what you’d been doing.

You wanted him to be wrong. You wanted to be able to turn things around and get yourself out of this, to go back to work in your shop like none of it happened. But he wasn’t wrong. You’d seen everything, the violence, the manipulation, and you’d looked past it all so easily, with only your own needs in mind. And you’d do it again.

It didn’t stop. It wasn’t going to stop. You took the bait that he’d dangled right in front of your nose and now he had you hooked. But that’s what you wanted, isn’t it? The power he held over you was not only taken, but willingly given. He knew it ever since he first saw you. He knew you wanted nothing more than to submit to him, for him to take what he wanted from you. He had you and no amount of violence was going to change that. What you were trapped by was your own selfishness.

“What just _happened_ was ou-t of your _control_ ,” he said, his words rumbling in his chest.

Your tears slowed from your eyes that were still focused intently on his and you opened your mouth, trying to speak between your heavy breaths, but your voice was lost in the tightness of your throat.

He kept his eyes on yours as he nodded, his voice dropping low, “You don’t _want_ control, do ya, doll?”

You became very still, your fists unclenching in your lap as the tension in your face began to release. Your head was spinning with doubt and confusion of your own doing, but you were losing your will to fight with yourself. He was getting what he wanted. This is what he wanted, isn’t it? For you to break down and admit you liked what he was doing to you? Why did it matter to you what he wanted?... Maybe it’s what you wanted too. You didn’t want to think about it. You didn’t want to fight it. You wanted to be selfish.

“…No,” you answered quietly.

Your chin still between his thumb and forefinger, he watched you as he hummed and slowly nodded his head. You blinked away the last blur welling up in your eyes and breathed him in as he leaned in closer, the heat of his breath overtaking your tide of emotions, making your lips tingle and your heart pound.

Then he tilted his head to the side and said, “Of course you don’t. You gave it alll a-way.”

You couldn’t stop the tremble returning to your hands as you took a shaky breath in, but the tears didn’t come back. Your body stilled again, and your breath escaped from between your lips, carrying on it the last of your willpower to resist. It was the easy way out. You’d given in again and again and despite your realization of where this, all of this, was going, you couldn’t stop yourself. Even if you wanted to. Your eyes, burning with shame you know longer had the strength to recognize, focused back on his. They pulled you in, like they always did, striking you deep down in your core to feed that ever-increasing need for more, more of it, more of him.

Your swallowed against your parched throat before opening your mouth to speak, “I-I did… I… gave it to you…What are you gonna do with it?”

Joker continued to gaze at you from behind his heavy black eyelids as his mouth twitched into a crooked grin, a deep chuckle rumbling in his chest.

“Mm don’t worry, baby doll, I’ll take good care of it.”

The rest of the world, far behind his alluring stare, came rushing in when the car door opened. His hand dropped from your chin and you sucked in a gasp as you were pulled from the backseat and left standing out on the sidewalk. Then the door shut, and the car quickly pulled away. Blinking your eyes and catching your breath, you turned around to see your apartment building behind you, a brick and mortar reminder of your life outside of his gaze. It felt strange, the twinge of disappointment in your stomach when you saw it, that pervasive thrill suddenly swept out of you. After all of that, he just left you there alone. Alone with your thoughts, your tears drying on your face.

_______________

You tried to wash it off, but it was still there. His scent. It clung to your skin and seeped into your pores. You couldn’t escape it, it filled your nose, invaded your mind. But did you really want to wash it off? Guilt has a way of weighing so heavy, but you let it fall from your shoulders with barely a second thought. That invading scent. Gasoline, sweat, greasepaint, smoke. It reached down to your bones and moved your muscles, carrying you further away from what you once knew was rational. Now you couldn’t tell, it was difficult to recognize.

Was that what was happening? A slow descent into the depths? You were walking that thin line between self-control and wild, reckless submission to the depravity you were always hungry for. You were hungry for it and hunger can do powerful things. You had to put a stop to this, but you didn’t know how.

The sun had long since disappeared below the horizon when you stepped out of the bathroom to slip on a pair of panties and pulled an oversized t-shirt over your head. You’d forced yourself to get up from your bed where you laid for hours, staring at the ceiling as your thoughts swirled relentlessly in your head. Your shower had done little to clear your mind as you hoped it would. It seemed as though your mind would never be clear again. The best you could do was to try to distract yourself. But it also seemed that would be an impossibility as well.

Just after your thumb pressed the button on your tv remote, there he was.

An image of his paint-smeared face filled the screen. He was speaking. You gradually put the remote down and made your way to the couch to lower yourself onto the cushions, your eyes glued to the tv. All it took was a few seconds of his voice, his face, and you were deaf and blind to anything else.

“Batman must take _off_ his mask and turn himself _in_. Oh, and everyday he doesn’t, people _will_ die. Starting tonight. I’m a man of my worr-d.”

His laugh, it reached down to your bones. The sound rang in your ears and set your nerves on fire. Your body froze and air ceased to move through your lungs until he was gone as soon as he’d appeared.

You flinched and sucked in a breath when the footage cut to a news reporter, bringing you back into the room from wherever you’d just been. Slowly, it was as if cotton was pulled from your ears and you sank from the cushion down onto the floor as you listened what the reporter was saying.

“If you’re just joining us now, this afternoon we received footage of what appears to be a threat from the criminal known only as ‘the Joker’ directly addressing Gotham’s own infamous vigilante, ‘Batman’. He has demanded that the masked outlaw turn himself in and, until he does, has threatened to carry out acts of murder in unknown numbers,” the reporter said as a breaking news banner scrolled across the bottom of the screen. “His targets have yet to be named but the first victim has been identified as Gotham resident Brian Douglas, known for his improvised attempts at civilian law enforcement impersonating Batman in several incidents across the city. His body was found hanging from a rope off of City Hall’s roof, directly in front of the window to the Mayor’s office, late this morning.”

As he spoke, a recording of the phony Batman being lowered onto the ground, surrounded by paramedics and a crowd of onlookers, played on screen. Your heart jumped into your throat and your stomach dropped like a stone. You had to swallow back the wave of nausea that resulted from seeing footage of the scene you’d fled just that morning. It made you dizzy. It felt as though you were about to plunge into the same murky waters of guilt and panic as you did earlier. But you didn’t. The pressure in your chest started to fade and you caught your breath.

“Updates on the situation are ongoing and will be relayed as soon as they are received but residents have been advised to stay in their homes and avoid traveling alone until police gain more information. This man is presumed to be armed and he is dangerous.”

That feeling in your chest, it faded and something else was growing in its place.

That man’s screams, Joker’s voice, the sound of his laughter. You couldn’t be sure if it was all staged but that was a lie, and you knew it. It was only your mind’s attempt at rationalizing what you’d seen, reducing down from what it really was. He didn’t hesitate to end a life if it benefitted him. You’d seen the body, you know he killed that man and now everyone in Gotham knew about it. But after what happened in the car earlier, you couldn’t look past it anymore. They called him a criminal. A dangerous criminal. You couldn’t look past it, but it didn’t stop you. There was no denying the feeling you got when you thought about it. You were fucking Gotham’s most wanted man. You were fucking him, and it was beyond anything you’d experienced before. The filthy nature of it was part of its appeal, wasn’t it? It was dirty, profane, wicked, devious. He manipulated you and you loved it. He knew you loved it.

Your breath grew faster, and tingles ran down your back, carrying with them that familiar heat in your core. The fact that he’s killed people… it made you want him to take control of you even more. The thought of it made your throat tighten but there was no rejecting it. That look in his eyes. The danger, his indifference toward his own power to snuff out someone’s entire reality, it ignited something primal in you. This man, this deadly enigma, you brought him pleasure. You felt it suddenly swell up inside you, some desperate need to hear him groan. You wanted to hear it. And you wanted to be the one to make him do it. Heat traveled up your neck from your chest and into your cheeks. It was wrong, so wrong. But you wanted it. You really wanted it and it was insatiable. You grabbed the bottom of your t-shirt and squeezed it in your fists. It was too much, you couldn’t argue with yourself anymore. You didn’t want to avoid it. You wanted to accept it, maybe even embrace it. But you couldn’t. You had to stop before things got even further out of control.

Then your door suddenly opened, making you jump where you sat on the floor in front of your couch, accompanied by a small yelp. Your muscles tightened and your eyes widened when you saw him, suddenly pulling you out of your thoughts and back into the room.

Joker casually shut and locked the door behind him, as if his intrusion was a completely normal thing to do, like you were expecting him. He pulled off his gloves before letting his coat and jacket slide off of his shoulders to land with a heavy clunk on the floor. Then he stretched out his jaw, wincing slightly when it made a popping sound before shaking his head and strolling into your living room. You watched him walk right past you to flop onto your couch, letting out a sigh and unbuttoning his vest for it to lay open before dropping his head back and stretching out his arms to rest along the back of the couch. It was like dream. Was he even here? Are you seeing things now?

Your mouth hung open slightly in confusion as you stared at him, everything you’d just been wrestling with yourself about nearly completely forgotten. Like a switch just went off in your brain. He acted as though he was blissfully unaware that you were even there.

You slowly sat up and turned toward him, keeping your eyes on him to see if he’d react to you moving but he just sat there with his eyes closed. Maybe you were seeing things. You couldn’t even hear the tv anymore as you watched his face, his eyes closed, and expression softened. His chest moved slowly with his breath. It seemed like he was really there, but you still weren’t convinced. Carefully, you reached out toward him and a flutter ran through your chest when your fingers brushed against his shoe before quickly pulling your hand back. You weren’t imaging this.

Why was he here? Acting like you weren’t even there, nonetheless. Was this some kind of game? Like a test?

You shifted your gaze over to his coat lying on your floor. You knew there must have been a plethora of weapons stashed within its pockets. Was that supposed to be bait? There weren’t many places left in the suit to hide weapons without it. Was he testing you to see if you’d look for a knife in his coat, put an end to this yourself? But he knew he didn’t need weapons to overpower you. You were also quite sure he knew you didn’t want any of this to end.

You could try to figure out what he was up to all you want, but you knew you’d likely be wrong. And you couldn’t help but notice the opportunity that was being presented to you. You looked back to Joker, his head still rested against the back of the couch. Then your eyes traveled down to his lap. The bulge in his pants steadily rose and fell with his breath and a sudden jolt of goosebumps traveled down your back before making your core tingle. Your face flushed warm and you felt your blood pumping faster. That curiosity, that need to elicit passion, to show him what you could do to him. It was pulling you in. You needed to feel something other than the vicious beating of your heart. You needed to feel his heat. You told yourself you can’t keep doing this. But hunger can do powerful things.

Silently getting up onto your knees, you moved to kneel between his legs, your head swimming with a ravenous arousal that made your belly tight and your thoughts become hazy. Your eyes darted up to his face once more before looking at the button on his pants and sooner than you could change your mind, you carefully reached for it.

Joker flinched when your fingers rested on his waistband and you stopped. He lifted his head, and you felt his eyes on you. Your heart beat even faster, and you froze before slowly looking up at him. He blinked at you, his eyes dark and focused but the rest of his face expressionless. His hands remained where they were on the back of the couch and he didn’t move. You stared back at him for a moment, feeling your face grow hotter. He was waiting, waiting to see what you’d do. Now you had to show him.

Your fingers held on to the button and slowly slid it through. You looked up at him to see his expression unchanged before bringing your gaze back to your trembling hands. That searing heat was radiating off of him and his breaths were becoming faster, deeper, as you gripped the zipper and slowly pulled it down. He didn’t hide his body’s reactions to what you were doing, the excitement you were causing. His heart was beating faster, sweat collecting on his skin, blood rushing in his veins. It was you having this effect on him. A surge of excitement pushed you to reach your hand into his pants where your fingers brushed against his cock. Your breath hitched and his body stiffened. You didn’t move, your hand in his pants as you slowly lifted your eyes again to look at his face.

He looked back at you with heavy eyelids, still not moving where he sat. His expression hadn’t changed… or had it? His brow looked heavier, his eyes even more intense than they were before, his jaw was clenched. He was holding himself back. Was he keeping himself from stopping you? Or maybe from launching himself forward to take you himself right there on the floor? Either way, you were going to show him what you could do. If this was a contest, you wanted to win. You knew you couldn’t stay away. Your stomach fluttered, and you kept eye contact with him as you wrapped your fingers around his cock. You tried to steady your breath as you felt him in your hand, growing harder as you gripped it, the muscle in his temple tensing and his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Then you pulled it out of his pants, the sight of it making your core ache. His lips parted and he held his breath for a moment before slowly letting it out. Your heart still pounding, you kept your eyes on his and wet your lips before opening your mouth and leaning over him to lower it onto his cock.

A low sound rumbled in his chest and his lap shifted beneath you as you felt him on your tongue. The sound he made, the way he tasted, the way he felt in your mouth, it took you over, your skin growing hotter and your mind foggy with desire. You wanted to hear more. You stuck your tongue out to lick down his shaft as you took more of him into your mouth before bringing your head back up to close your lips around the tip. His chest swelled with heavy breath and the sound of his groan reached your ears as he bucked his hips toward you. Exhilaration rose even higher into your chest, egging you on, and you lowered your mouth over his cock again, swallowing around it and taking as much of him as you could until it reached the back of your throat. His thighs tensed and you felt his fingers tangle in your hair on the back of your head to keep you there as he groaned louder. You wouldn’t have been able to stop if you wanted to, drunk on lust and desperate to lure out more filthy noises. He huffed as you gripped the fabric of his pants and moved up and down, sucking and swirling your tongue on his cock as it twitched in your mouth, eliciting out a long, drawn-out growl.

Your own breath was heavy now, pulling air in through your nose that carried his rousing scent. Up and down, deeper toward your throat as a pleased hum hung in the air. Suddenly he bucked his hips harder, pushing himself to the back of your throat. You nearly choked and barely held your gag back, not yet recovered when he did it again, bringing tears to your eyes. This only intensified your need to show him you could take it and you brought your lips down to the hilt, holding it there while he let out a throaty growl and you moaned around his cock.

Then the small sound of a click and the feeling of something hard pressed against your temple called out to you, bringing you up to the surface from the reverie you’d been letting yourself drown in and you took a sharp breath in through your nose as he hushed you.

“Shhh, shush shush. Now it’s _my_ turn to play a game, sweet cheeks.”

You froze and opened your eyes with his dick still in your mouth, unable to move from where he held your head in place between his legs and you tried to steady your hands that still clutched his pants.

He grunted and tightened his grip on your hair before he growled, “The name of the game is _don’t stop_.”

You wanted to get upset. You should be afraid. This isn’t what was supposed to happen. You let your desires take over after everything you’ve been through and end up with a gun to your head? You told yourself to put a stop to this. But dizzying reminders of everything you’ve done with him ran wildly through your mind, like it was begging you to consider the promise of wicked satisfaction that could await you. Knives, blood, heavy breaths, teeth on your skin, his knee between your thighs, the heat that burned in your core when his lips brushed you ear. This was something of a next step in the self-indulgent thrill seeking you’ve been craving since the beginning. It was wrong, yes. But did that really matter?

Goosebumps prickled your arms and with a ragged breath, you lowered you mouth and hollowed your cheeks to continue sucking on him. His body rose up to meet you and a guttural moan vibrated in his throat, bringing back the familiar tingle between your legs as your heart continued to race. The rush of blood pounded in your ears when you let it in, that willingness to let go. This is what you wanted after all, to give in. A sharp sting at your temple reminded you what was there, and your fists tightened as you let yourself devour him. It pushed you further, harder, driving you to bring him to the edge just as he dangled you over his own. His grunts and twitches grew more erratic, your lips now swollen and plump around his cock as he tugged on your hair and pressed the barrel of the gun harder against your temple. Then it was gone.

You suddenly felt yourself being lifted up off of the floor and he popped out of your mouth when he pulled you up onto the couch and over his lap. Your wide eyes met his for only a moment before his fingers tugged your panties to the side and he brought you down onto his hardened cock, wet with your saliva.

His lips slammed against yours and you breathed a needy moan into his mouth as he let you sink down, stretching you, reaching deeper before pulling you closer, rocking his hips. He released your mouth to let your shameless cries be heard as he thrusted upwards, reaching your sensitive spot. Your jaw dropped and your hands flew up to grab on to his shoulders as you gasped, the abrupt pressure inside you overwhelming your senses.

“The name of _this_ game is enjoy the ri-de, doll face,” he panted with a grin on his face.

Then his warm hands slid beneath your t-shirt and moved from your waist, up your sides, and to your chest to caress your breasts. Another thrust of his pelvis and you let out an open-mouthed moan toward the ceiling as he growled. That sound. It made your chest flutter, your pounding heart feeling lighter. It compelled you to move your body, pushing you to roll your hips down toward his lap. Suddenly, he stopped moving, his hands sliding back down to your waist. His eyes rolled back, and his head tilted upwards as he grunted, a smile stretching across his face.

“Mmmm that’s right, sweetheart. Show me what you’ve got,” he purred.

He dropped his chin to lock eyes with you, his tongue running along his lip, and a fire burned within your belly like it never had before. It swelled into your chest and up your back, burning your skin as every little hair stood on end. He kept completely still as he watched you curl your lower lip between your teeth. You realized you’d never been on top of him like this before. Your head was swimming, flooded with a euphoria you couldn’t describe as you focused on how good it felt, his hands on you, his cock deep in your cunt. It left no room for guilt. You were doing this again, you knew you shouldn’t, but you no longer had the capacity to honor any promises you made to yourself. It filled you with some sinful, indecent confidence that made you want to do exactly as he said. Enjoy the ride.

You moved your hands from his shoulders to grip the bottom of your t-shirt, keeping your eyes on his before pulling it over your head and dropping it onto the floor behind you. His eyes traveled down your chest as his rose and fell heavily. He continued to keep still, until you took a breath and rolled your hips again. His grin returned and a chuckle rumbled in his throat before his hands made their way back to your chest. A whine had barely escaped your mouth when he leaned forward to run his tongue over your nipple and took it into his mouth. You groaned, gripping his shirt before you pulled back and drove yourself downward onto his cock once more. He growled, his jaw dropping and eyes locking with yours once again. His eyes always stirred something inside you. You didn’t always understand what it was. Fear, veneration, lust, dread? Maybe all of it. That desperate need. That inexplicable want to take hold of him and fuck him. To show him that you belong to him. A dangerous criminal. 

You let it all go. You thrusted, rolled your hips, cried out in pleasure, your jaw dropped, your fists curled tight around his collar. You let yourself show him. He groaned at the writhing of your pelvis on top of his, running one hand over your chest before resting it in a slight grip around your neck. You hummed at the feeling of his hand at your throat, holding that power he had over you just within reach, reminding you.

The heat between you only grew hotter as you bucked your hips, chasing more of that delicious friction, grinding your clit against him while he watched you with fire in his eyes, his hand around your throat. That look in his eyes. He watched you like you were his own private show. You took heavy breaths and let your hands wander up from the back of his neck to lace your fingers into his hair, locking your eyes with his. The tight coil within your belly was insatiable, ravenous for the pressure you fed it as you worked your thighs, burying him deep inside you, gasping and groaning. Then he suddenly lifted his hips to meet you, forcing his cock deeper and the air from your lungs. A switchblade clicked next to your ear before the cool blade grazed your hip, a sharp breath rushing in through your mouth at the sting of its edge breaching your skin. He pulled the blade up to snap the waistband of your panties before moving his hand from your throat the grip the other side, cutting the thin fabric and tearing the garment away from your body.

Your fingers curled into tight fists in his hair, pulling on the green strands as his hands gripped your hips again, thumbs digging into the soft flesh. A sound that made your heart flutter furiously vibrated in his throat before he drove himself into you, hard, his arms flexing as he forced you down onto him. You couldn’t hear anything but the noise from your own mouth, your body wrapped in raw satisfaction as you bounced roughly on his lap. Your pleads, whines, cries for more flowed freely on your breath to mix with his guttural groans while is head tilted back, his brow furrowed, and jaw dropped. The tighter you gripped, pulling his hair taught against his scalp, the harder he bucked into you with wordless encouragement. You were balanced on the piercing edge of your release, so close to plunging into that sharp rush of euphoria. The kind of euphoria that only comes from this, this filthy indulgence, this toxic seduction. It compelled you, whispered in your ear, to pull hard enough to jerk his head back, to lean forward and latch your mouth onto his neck.

Running your tongue over the warm marks you left with your teeth, you could feel the low groan that vibrated in his throat. His bruising hold on your waist, the taste of the marks in his skin, it sent you over the edge. Your core clenched around his cock as it pulsed inside of you and your body stiffened over top of him while an eruption of flaming pleasure overtook your body, burning you, consuming you as your back arched and your eyes rolled back.

Your lungs desperately pulled air into your chest and the sweat on your skin sent a chill down your back as the ripples of carnal satisfaction slowed and your muscles released their tension. Joker’s chest heavily rose and fell beneath you where you’d collapsed on his chest, letting your eyelids flutter closed. The room suddenly felt so quiet, but you could hear something in the background. The tv was still on.

“Breaking news this evening, we’ve received word that police commissioner Gillian Loeb has been pronounced dead tonight after paramedics were unable to revive him in his office.”

Your eyes snapped open and you quickly sat up, whipping your head around to look at the screen.

“The county coroner’s office has just begun its investigation and have not released any details at this time, however, it is presumed that his sudden death is linked to the threat made by the Joker just hours ago. How access to his office was gained is unknown, but detectives in the major crimes unit were notified that traces of his DNA were found on a Joker card pinned to the body of Brian Douglas found only this morning.”

Your heart began to race again, and your eyes widened before you turned back around to see Joker’s crooked smirk looking back at you.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


	12. Part Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When the Fox hears the Rabbit scream he comes a-runnin', but not to help."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!  
> Oh man, I am SO excited for this chapter, you guys ALSAKDFNDJFDJSNF it's a doozy and I really hope you like it!!  
> Please read the warning below and do not interact with this story if you are a minor!
> 
> WARNING this one is graphic and violent, heads up! Graphic depiction of a corpse, violence, blood, attempted kidnapping.

You felt dizzy. It was happening again. Everything felt like it was spinning as guilt and anxiety started to flood your brain, drowning you, making you gasp for air.

Your lungs couldn’t seem to pull it in fast enough. Short, quick breaths burned your throat as you desperately grabbed for something, anything to steady yourself. Your fists closed around the lapel of Joker’s vest where he sat beneath you, still inside of you.

His painted face came into focus as you blinked your eyes and panic struck you like lightning, jolting you to scramble to move off of his lap. But he was too quick. His hands firmly gripped your waist and the room tipped backwards as he wrestled both of you to the floor. Strands of his faded green hair hung in a curtain over your face where he held it in place, inches below his own. Puffs of your heavy breath washed over his face, his expression indecipherable as always, only an inkling of anger visible in his brow. He kept you still on your back where he knelt on top of you and flickered his gaze over your face. The cold rush of adrenaline in your veins began to subside and you could feel pressure between your legs. He’d managed to stay inside of you, giving you no room to push him out. Your heart fluttered and eyes shut as you forcefully tried to wriggle your way out from underneath him, but it was as if you weighed nothing in comparison to the strength of his grip. Despite the futility of it, you couldn’t stop yourself from trying to fight him, a fire burning in your chest, until he suddenly spoke.

“ _Look at_ _me_ ,” he growled, his gravelly voice rumbling in his throat, and your eyes flew open.

He stared down at you with an intensity that froze you to your core. You stared back with wide eyes and your mouth dropped open but remained incapable of making any sound. His eyes looked as though they’d grown darker, peering past your skin, your bones, to gaze at the very thoughts that relentlessly tore your mind to pieces.

“The dominos, my dear, they’re gonna _fall_. It’s al-ready started. One by one, they’re gonna fall and they’re not gonna _stop_.”

Your chest felt so tight. His words stirred up the flames that had ignited so quickly, burning you, pushing you to fight. What were you fighting? His hands held the sides of your face tightly as you stared into the blackness of his eyes that remained fixed on yours. It was the only thing keeping you grounded as you felt yourself nearing the edge of an endless blackhole within your mind, its pull growing stronger. How much more of this could you take before you let go?

Joker slowly nodded his head, sensing the changes happening behind your eyes. Of course, he knew what was happening. That icy drip you felt down your back, that sudden shock driving you to action without any direction, that twinge of remorse. It told you to run, to fight, to hide from this feeling that was growing in your chest, squeezing your insides, pushing you closer to that edge. But he held you there, forcing you to face it.

His voice dropped lower as he continued, “Don’t forget our little _deal._ _You_ gave your control over to _me_. Dontcha remember, doll?”

You tried to breathe. You tried to calm the anxiety threatening to suffocate you as your body began to tremble on the floor. He wasn’t going to let you run. The flood of chemical signals saturating your body, tormenting your mind, told you to run. But is that what you wanted? It’s what your body was telling you but, is that what you wanted?

He’d rendered you unable to answer that question. Your heart pounded relentlessly as that thought sank down to your stomach. He knew this would happen. He gave you something he knew you wouldn’t be able to resist. How did he know? You never even knew it yourself. He saw something in your eyes you didn’t know was there. He used it too. He lead you straight into a trap you couldn’t have guessed would go this far, unable to see past his alluring figure, looming over you, reaching out to touch you, give you more of you’d come to crave so badly. And you’d let yourself fall for it again.

You couldn’t recognize all of the emotions you were feeling, all twisted together, but one stood out, creeping up from behind you and prickling your skin. Anger. Your breath quickened, puffing his hair out of our face before you struggled against his grip once again and his hands left your face to grab your wrists as you tried to push him off. It was like you were pushing against a brick wall. His fingers wrapped tightly around your wrists, his hold sure to leave marks on your skin, and a smacking of his lips brought your attention back to his face to see his gaze had remained unbroken. It wasn’t fair, the way he made you feel. So conflicted and guilty, but so alive. You couldn’t stay away from him, he made sure of that. Tears began to burn behind your eyes, but you couldn’t let yourself cry in front of him again.

“I… I hate you.”

The words tasted bitter on your tongue, the sound of them distant, as if it wasn’t you speaking them. They were just venom, spat desperately in his face in an attempt to fool the predator that his prey was stronger than she actually was.

The straight line of his mouth curved into a haughty smirk before he replied, “Mmm, I _guaran-tee_ that you don’t.”

But he can’t be fooled.

You took quick breaths in and out as you scowled at him until the heat bubbling up inside of you reached your mouth and you shouted, “Just leave me alone!”

“We both know you don’t want that.”

His quip only infuriated you further. Your fists tightened and the pressure in your forehead made tears come to your eyes as your chest shook with staggered breath. You couldn’t think, reduced to a knotted bundle of frustration, wound up so tight it hurt. All you could do was scream. You cursed at him, shouted, yelled, it burned in the back of your throat and echoed in your head, releasing the anger that squeezed it out of you until his hand clapped over your mouth and your eyes tore open.

“Careful now, sweetheart. You’re gonna hurt my _feelings_.”

A sharp breath in through your nose carried the scent of greasepaint that always stained his fingers and the room suddenly felt eerily calm. The tv was still on, the sound of a commercial for Gotham Savings and Loan drifting past your ears, just audible over the sound of your breath mixing with his. It was as if the fire in your chest had been doused with water, leaving only smoldering embers where flames had just been burning up your insides. You let your breath out slowly and your muscles released, too fatigued to hold on. You could see the tension in his jaw disappear when he felt you relax beneath him, keeping your eyes fixed on his, the crushing darkness you’d seen within them just a shadow.

“I’m gonna tell you a secret,” he said in an unexpectedly relaxed tone, raising his eyebrows. “You aren’t as _helpless_ as you _think_ you are.”

Your brow furrowed as you continued to stare up at his face, your thoughts not yet cleared from beneath a layer of ash.

His tongue flicked out over his lip and now that he was sure he had your full attention, he continued, “Ev-ery-thing is _balanced_ , a steadfast but _delicate_ system. All it takes is _one little push_ to bring it all _crashing down_.”

He blinked at you and slowly moved his hand from your mouth as you blinked back. Why did he always have to speak like this? Always so cryptic and steeped in maddening ambiguity. Against your better judgement, you voiced your frustration to his face.

“I never know what you’re talking about.”

You flinched when he suddenly burst into a loud fit of laughter, its pitch ringing in your ears and sending a shiver down your sides. He swallowed it back in muffled giggles before managing to speak, “Is that so?” Then his breath slowed, his voice steadily dropped as his grin faded and he looked you in the eyes and said, “I think you _do_ , doll. You _do_ but you just don’t wanna _listen_.”

The twinge in your stomach pushed you to try to argue, opening your mouth before you even knew what to say. But he was quicker, he was always quicker. He leaned in even closer, his fingers wrapping around your wrists as he spoke.

“Doesn’t it get _old_ playing the victim? Hm? You know we’re _far_ past that by now, sweetheart.”

Like a switch had been flipped, you froze beneath him once again. He knew too well how to get what he wanted from you. Arousal, obedience, fear. He was always right. You could tell yourself that you didn’t know something like this would happen, but that doesn’t make it true. You’d already come to this conclusion so many times, but it just so hard to accept it. Your mouth closed and you fell silent as your eyes caught sight of the bite mark you’d left on his neck. You knew. You knew and you chose to ignore it. You knew and you liked it.

Joker kept his eyes on yours, obvious that he knew he’d gotten through to you, and slowly nodded. Then let go of your wrists before he suddenly stood up, pulling out of you and taking the breath from your lungs along with him. All at once, his heat and pressure were taken away in an unexpected shock to your system, leaving his cum slowly dripping down between your legs where you laid naked on the floor. It had to have been on purpose. This cold, empty, vulnerability. You wanted to hate him, but you couldn’t. Just more evidence of the power he held over you, the heat you could never seem to get enough of. You’d been frustrated by it. It bothered you at first, but that was changing, twisting into something else. No matter what he did to you, all you wanted was to submit to him. No one had ever left you feeling this empty, this hungry to do it all again.

After tucking himself into his pants, he reached into his pocket to retrieve a pack of cigarettes then kept two from the pack in his lips. Then he held the flame of a lighter from another pocket to their tips until they glowed in the dim light from the television that was cast over his body where he stood over you. Kneeling down, he took a deep inhale from both cigarettes before plucking one from his lips and placing it between yours as smoke curled into the air from the corners of his mouth.

“You did well, doll. I’ll see ya when the next domino falls, hm?”

The front door shut as you stared up at the ceiling, holding the cigarette between your fingers after taking a deep drag, trying to suffocate the butterflies that had returned to your stomach.

_______________

What are the stages of grief again? Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. Is it normal to feel them all at once?

The past few days had done little to clear your mind. But exhaustion had carried you to the point of passivity. You’d become numb. You supposed it was a defense mechanism, a subconscious effort to save your sanity. Even when you finally heard word of what Joker had been up to since you’d seen him, you had trouble having any sort of feelings about it.

After spending days in your apartment, usually in a state somewhere between asleep and awake, you decided it was best to open the shop. It was sort of like playing pretend. Like you weren’t wrapped around the gloved finger of Gotham’s newest and most notorious criminal who’d been giving you the best sex of your life in exchange for selling your soul to him. Just a regular small business owner trying to stay afloat. Your regular customers had certainly taken notice of your frequent absence lately, as proven by the not so friendly messages left on your answering machine. So, you did your best to keep up the charade under the guise of a “death in the family”.

A stack of newspapers was waiting for you on the doorstep and at the top of the pile, a headline pertaining to a certain clown.

“CITY BRACES FOR JOKER’S NEXT MOVE. COMMISSIONER LOEB FUNERAL PROCEEDINGS TO CONTINUE AS PLANNED.”

You took the one from the top, then unlocked the door and hung up your coat, pausing before dropping the paper on the desk. A little feeling settled in the pit of your stomach. You didn’t renew your newspaper subscription this year. Your eyes shifted to the door as those pervasive goosebumps rose up on the back of your neck. You knew exactly who left it here. Ignoring it, you swallowed against the sudden dryness in your throat and moved on to turn on the shop lights as you tried to reason with yourself. _Don’t read it, you’ll find out what he has planned soon enough._ _He’s using you for his games._

But reasoning has never been your strong suit. After all, you should keep up with what’s going on, right? You rushed back to the desk and dropped into your chair before swiftly unfolding the paper, your palms already damp with sweat.

The article had little details to offer until it stated that a threat was made on the mayor’s life in the form of a fake obituary. The thought that Joker had a certain flare for the dramatic made you shift in your chair as your heart fluttered and you finished reading. For the amount of crime that went on in this city, Gotham was never good at responding to it. Not in any way that made sense, at least. They were going ahead with the commissioner’s funeral and the mayor was still scheduled to give his speech. It seemed like they were asking for it by now. Why would they just put the mayor out in front like he was bait?

Then your stomach sank even further. Maybe it was a trap. Gotham PD couldn’t be that stupid, they must be planning to catch him when he goes after the mayor. The next domino. Your heart started pumping faster as an inexplicable need to warn him flashed in your mind. _No, that’s stupid. You don’t want to protect him. He’s a sociopathic murderer._

Here you were again. Caught in your own web, tangled between what you knew you should want and what you really wanted. You already knew what you wanted and so did he. You remembered when you saw him only days ago, the feeling that carried all the way down to your toes, the look in his eyes, the way he touched you. The sounds he made when he fucked you.

A furious rush of tingles ran down your back and your mind raced. _He must know it’s a trap. He’s smarter than them. He wouldn’t let himself get killed that easily, right?_ Your hands gripped the desk as you tried to calm yourself, accepting the reality that you couldn’t hold back these feelings. You couldn’t hold them back or you’d loose your mind faster than you already were. He told you he’d see you again, you just had to wait. He hasn’t lied to you so far.

Once the buzz in your body settled and your breath slowed, you stood from the desk to get something to slake the thirst tightening in your throat. Maybe it’ll help clear your head too. You opened the fridge in the workshop where you kept complimentary drinks for costumers then scanned its contents before stopping yourself from grabbing the champagne and reaching for a bottle of water instead. The cold water soothed all the way down to your stomach and you closed your eyes, the relief even better than you’d hoped for. Then a sound coming from the front room made your eyelids fly open. It sounded like the door closing.

You were already on edge, maybe it was your imagination. But you couldn’t ignore the anxiety that trickled down your back. Did you lock the door behind you when you came in? Your heart raced and that feeling in your stomach was back with a vengeance. Silently setting the water bottle down, you took careful steps toward the door.

The silence was deafening as you slowly passed through the doorway into the front room, your gaze unblinking and brow heavy. You should’ve called out and ask who was there, but your voice was nowhere to be found when you opened your mouth. Then you thought maybe it was Joker, here to collect his next favor, and your heart fluttered. When you passed the desk, your mind busy with possibilities, you turned to see a man in an oversized suit jacket standing in the fitting area.

Your voice finally showed up and the man whirled around when your startled scream rang out into the room. In the split second that your brain had shifted to fight or flight, you’d backed up against the wall and sucked in a breath as your sensibility returned, your cheeks flushing hot.

“Sir, the shop is closed!” you blurted out in embarrassment as you tried to catch your breath.

Your back was still flat against the wall when he flashed you an unnerving smile and answered as he turned to face you, “My apologies, miss. Pardon my intrusion but I am here on behalf of someone who wish to speak to you.”

His accent. You could almost smell the stale cigars.

The heat drained from your face and before you could second guess yourself, you made a break for the front door. Your panicked muscles carried you as far as ten feet from the door before a pair of arms wound around your middle and pulled you backwards as you kicked and shouted. You managed to jab your elbow straight into the man’s stomach, eliciting a pained grunt, but he still wouldn’t let go, dragging you toward the exit out to the alleyway as you screamed obscenities at him, your heels skidding on the floor.

He grunted again then said with increasing irritation in his voice, “You only make this harder on yourself, eh? Now be a good little girl and shut up!”

A swell of burning rage rose up in your chest when his words left his mouth and with more force than you thought you were capable of, you jerked your body forward and pulled the man off of his feet to tip him over onto the floor. He took you down with him. But the fall broke his grasp, and you were able to wriggle free before scrambling to your feet. The front door was still your best hope. Maybe someone in this godforsaken city would hear you scream and do something.

You took a leap toward the door once again before your chin slammed against the floor boards after he snatched your ankle and brought you crashing back down onto the floor. A frustrated shout scratched in your throat as you twisted onto your back. His hand caught your fist when you swung it toward his face, the satisfaction from the crack of your knuckles against his jaw never fulfilled. Everything was happening so fast but also so slowly as you struggled against his grip where he was bent over top of you on the floor, his cologne burning your nose. The air hurt your lungs and blood roared in your ears, your thoughts muddled by the raw anger that took over your body. This couldn’t be happening. You couldn’t let this happen.

His hand twisted in your hair and pulled hard, the sting in your scalp making you hiss through gritted teeth. Then you saw it in the corner of your eye, your pair of heavy upholstery scissors had been knocked onto the floor, just within your reach.

A flash of red blinded you as your fist tightened around the handle just before you felt the resistance of the blades sinking into his flesh. Everything else seemed to stop and your muscles squeezed to push them in further, your mind gone blank. His hand left your hair to grab at his throat, sputtering and choking as you released your grip on the scissor’s handle. His eyes grew wider as his lungs tried desperately to pull a breath in, but it was too late.

Blood saturated his shirt collar, flowing further away from his brain, his mouth gaping open. It gurgled and bubbled, gasping for air that could no longer pass through, only thick blood filling his airway as his consciousness rapidly faded to black. Your body went numb and rolled out from beneath him before he hit the floor, his frantic movements gone still.

Soon you were on your feet, staring at the body face down on the floor, your scissors shoved into his throat. You blinked before a wave of panic suddenly pushed you against the wall, plunging you into a cold sweat, unable to look away from the pool of bright red seeping into the rug. You couldn’t stop yourself from panting and trembling, your head growing lighter until you felt the walls closing in. The only thing that kept you from passing out was an eruption of nausea, the second surge of a physiologic response to the realization of what you’d done as you slid down the wall into a heap on the floor.

You retched against your sobs that burst forth, the only sound in the unnervingly silent room as you let it all out, too overwhelmed to know what else to do. There was strange solace in the blur that your tears brought to your vision, distorting the scene in front of you, like it wasn’t there. But it was. Your mind began reeling, attempting to process, to rationalize. You killed him. He was dead. Now it was so quiet.

It wasn’t clear how long you’d spent like that, trapped beneath the weight of shock. But gradually the torrent of emotion that had stunned you quelled, and your breath slowed, nearly all of your capacity for feeling exhausted. In the absence of feeling, you regained your ability to think. He was dead but he attacked you. It was self-defense. _It was self-defense._

Then your eyes flew open and your stomach sank before you managed to stand up, your legs buckling underneath you as you rushed to the door to turn the lock. What do you do now? You spun around, your back to the door, and scanned the room in some attempt to come up with a plan. Now there was a body on the floor and blood all over your shop. It should have surprised you how quickly your attitude shifted from devastated by what you had done to upset by the situation it put you in. But you knew exactly who had something to do with that.

_You aren’t as helpless as you think you are._

You swallowed against the lump in your throat. This was because of him. He was the whole reason this man was here, the only reason that Chechen sent him here to get you. What was going to happen now that he wasn’t going to return with you? You didn’t have much time, did you? A feeling of dread settled into your stomach. This was all because of him but he was the only one who could help you.

Bile rose up toward your mouth, but you stifled it as you stepped around the body in search of Joker’s phone, the air feeling heavier as you rounded the desk. This still didn’t feel real. It was there in front of you, but it didn’t feel real.

The screen lit up and you scrolled through the list on “unknown” and “private” numbers. Your heart beat faster as anxiety bubbled just below the surface, threatening to pull you under again until you stopped on one of them and hit the call button with your thumb. Holding the phone to your ear, your hands buzzed while it rang, each tone loosening your tenuous grasp on rationality. The ringing stopped and then, nothing. A squeeze in your chest pushed you to try again. No answer. Your breath quickened and your hands started to shake but you couldn’t give up. You chose another number and hit call, then another. One last try.

Your whole body tingled now as it rang. One ring, two rings. On the sixth ring, you were ready to submit to the heightening unease crawling up your back until you suddenly heard his voice.

“Little _busy_ right now, doll.”

It felt like your heart stopped then restarted and you couldn’t get sound to come from your mouth for a moment before you managed to almost whisper, “I need help.”

There was silence, permeated by the sound of your breathing as you trembled so hard you almost dropped the phone.

“And where might help find you?” he asked in an unusual tone.

Your voice was hoarse but a bit stronger when you answered, “My shop.”

He was silent again and you could hear something in the background, but the thumping of your own heart in your ears made it difficult to recognize what it was.

“Wait there.”

Then the call was ended.

The phone slid down away from your ear as you let your arm fall to your side and lowered yourself into the desk chair. He didn’t even ask what happened or what you needed help with. But there was something about his tone of voice. It brought you a strange sense of relief, knowing he was coming. It sank into you, warm and calming, easing your nerves all twisted up inside you. It was crazy, wrong, backwards, but that didn’t make it any less true. You didn’t have the energy to think about it anymore, acceptance was just by default now.

Your stomach twinged when you remembered what was on the other side of the desk and you felt a sudden need to be as far away from it as possible, standing from the chair so fast your head felt light. There was an inexplicable, contradictory urge to look that you fought to resist as you rushed to the back room, keeping your eyes averted. You had to try to stay calm and wait.

The next hour was pure torture. You sat clutching the burner phone tightly and stared at the bottle of water you’d left there not long ago, but by now it felt like days. Surely you needed it, but the thought of swallowing anything made your throat tighten. Every time the way it felt when the blades in your hand sank into flesh crossed your mind, it was like there was a short circuit and it was gone as soon as you blinked. You would have never guessed that you’d be capable of doing something like this. Did Joker know? He seemed to know more about you than you did. Were you like him? Does he go numb when it happens like you did?

You were shaken out of your trance when the sound of the side door opening made you flinch before you got up to rush toward the front room. Your breath hitched when, for the second time today, instead of seeing Joker, you saw someone else. But he looked familiar.

“The fuck happened here?” Joker’s goon with the bald head and leather jacket asked.

Your tense muscles relaxed a little, and you watched a few other men you didn’t recognize enter the room, their faces showing an equal amount of surprise before the door shut.

“Where is he?”

“Boss is busy.”

You blinked at the hulking man and tried to focus on staying calm as your ever-persistent level of anxiety threatened to rise up again. He wasn’t here but you supposed he trusted these men since he sent them in his place, for whatever that was worth. “Ok,” you answered softly.

The man looked down at the body then back to you before he raised his eyebrows and said, “A’right, so we gotta move a body then?”

He seemed so casual about it, staring at you and waiting for a response until you slowly nodded. They moved surprisingly quickly, taking the mirror and tables off of the rug before rolling the body into it. Most of the blood went with it but there was still some on the hardwood. They asked you if you had any bleach. It was surreal, watching them rid the room of any sign that something so violent had happened. They carried out the rolled up rug to toss it into the back of the white van they’d driven then used bleach and scraps of terry cloth that you never knew why you’d kept to clean up the rest of the blood before throwing it all away in a garbage bag, thrown in the van with the body.

It seemed strange how easily they could make it all go away. Physically, anyway. The reality of it was finally starting to sink in. You weren’t sure how long the images would replay in your mind, the moment you saw his eyes grow distant, the blood welling up in his mouth.

You stared blankly ahead through the windshield from where you sat in the van’s passenger seat, your chest rising and falling steadily with your breath. They hadn’t bothered to blindfold you this time. It wasn’t clear why. Maybe they saw the vacant look on your face and knew you wouldn’t remember any of the drive anyway. It was still daylight, but only just. The whisps of clouds on the horizon fluoresced in bright shades of pink and orange. Gotham usually isn’t treated to such beautiful sunsets.

It wasn’t long before your surroundings morphed into the now familiar sight of urban decay. Broken windows, gated doors, peeling paint. You watched it all pass by until the van made a turn toward the docks. You’d never been to this place before. The shrill sound of gulls met your ears when you followed the group of men out of the van, parked behind what looked like an old shipyard warehouse. None of them said a word or even looked back at you as they carried the body and bag of bloodied rags toward a rusted door, but a flutter in your stomach compelled you to stay close.

Voices echoed off of the ceiling that rose up two stories, lined with crisscrossed metal scaffolding and flickering lights, above a large central room that was littered with broken crates and scrap metal. Graffiti covered much of the weather beaten brick walls and a staircase leading to an upper level. You’d actually always wanted to see what these abandoned buildings looked like on the inside. They’re all over Gotham, corroding monuments to a once thriving city. This place was a hive of activity; groups of men cleaning guns, unloading various boxes and crates, there even appeared to be a riotous poker game underway. You focused on steadying your breath as you took in your surroundings before your gaze landed on where the men had carried the body.

Across the room, they were opening the door to a huge furnace, the bright glow making you squint your eyes. Your mouth slowly dropped open and your throat became dry when you saw them heave the body, rug, and bag of evidence into the white hot flames. And that was it. Like it never even happened.

Your nerves crept up on you and even this open space started to feel like it was closing in. What were you doing here? This was the last place you should have been, surrounded by the sort of men who could easily have stood in place of the one who was now being rendered to cinders. A shiver ran down your back and you quickly turned to run out the door but instead slammed hard into someone’s chest. A surprised gasp nearly made you cough when it dried your throat even more and your hands reflexively flew up to shield yourself as your gaze dropped to the floor.

A powerful jolt tightened every muscle once you blinked, seeing brown shoes and purple pinstripe pants standing there in front of you. You let your eyes travel up his chest, rising and falling steadily, covered only by a thin white tank top, and your heart fluttered before reaching his face when it dropped into your stomach. The white, red, and black that always obscured his features, it wasn’t there. You could see the pink, gnarled scar tissue that distorted the corners of his mouth, bare and uncovered. His skin bore only traces of the distinguishing paint, like it had been hastily wiped off.

His tongue flicked out over his lip and you sucked in a breath when your eyes darted up to meet his. Warmth seeped in beneath your skin, pooling in your belly as electricity ran across the surface of your body.

“Hello, doll.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAA SORRY FOR THE CLIFFHANGER I HAD TO  
> And I promise there is some serious nsfw content coming up real soon!!
> 
> I really hope you're enjoying this crazy ride, thank you so much for reading! Comments always welcome and appreciated 💖


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